A Matter of Will
by sunburntdaisy
Summary: A twist on the oh-so-done continuation of the season finale. In this version Christy does not talk Margaret out of going to Atlanta.
1. Nothing in her way

Disclaimer – characters and premise aren't mine. Just takin' them for a ride. Cheers :)

This story takes off from the conversation Christy has with Fairlight in _The Road Home_, where Christy realizes who she really wants. Why is it different? In this version Christy never went to El Pano to confront Margaret, never gave her the impetus to return. So Margaret is not at Neil's when Christy arrives...

* * *

><p>Christy reigned in her horse and slid from the saddle. As soon as he was tied up she realised what she was about to do and stopped, stunned and still at the bottom of the steps leading up to Neil's cabin. Slowly, she climbed the stairs, her mind raging with a battle between full disclosure and coy excuses. She raised her hand to knock on the door, took a deep breath, paused. She had to decide before she saw him or it would be too late for a careful, thoughtful, decision.<p>

"Can I help you?" Neil swung the door open, "Oh, Christy. Is everything alright?"

"Ah, yes. Fine. Everything is fine."

He smiled. "Good." A moment's hesitation and he invited her in, returning to what he'd been doing, presumably, before her arrival – building a fire in the hearth. "I just got home – I'd offer you a cup of coffee but as you can see, it might take a while."

"I'm in no hurry."

"Excellent. School out early?"

"No, David's taking lessons this afternoon."

"Lucky you. Though, I suppose you'll tell me that I'll have my very own substitute in Dan Scott soon enough."

"Sounds like I don't need to say a word – you can read my mind."

"I doubt that." He flicked a match and lit the brush beneath the kindling in several places. "Will you sit?"

She had hovered near the doorway till then. He was so relaxed – it made her feel even more nervous. She nodded and sat in front of the fire.

"Was there something particular you wished to speak to me about?"

"Yes."

He watched her, waited, smiled, laughing at her without making a noise.

"I was just up at Bear Ridge with Fairlight."

"That's a fair hike."

"I suppose – I've been up there a few times now."

"You're on your way to becoming a real mountain woman."

She smiled. "It was just something she said – it got me thinking, and what I thought, I thought I should tell you." She sighed, "But now that I come to it, I'm not so sure."

"Well, you'll have to tell me now or the curiosity will kill me."

She cocked her head to one side.

He moved to sit beside her, the fire doing well on its own. "Whatever it is, you know you can tell me. I'm pretty certain you know all my worst secrets."

She looked into his eyes and found the courage to be honest. "You are my dearest friend."

He smiled, waited for her continue, and she lost her nerve. "Was there something else?"

"Well, I... maybe."

"Take your time."

"Neil, this isn't funny."

"I don't think it's funny, Christy."

"Don't you see the problem? I confide in you, rely on you – I trust you completely, but I'm just so confused."

"I can't tell you how much it means to me, to have your trust. But what are you confused about?"

"I just didn't realise before."

He waited for a coherent explanation, watched her closely, concern growing.

"I knew – I have known for a while – that you care for me. I ignored it, I suppose, knowing nothing could come of it – but then today I realised,"

"Realised what?" He couldn't bare to wait when she hesitated.

"I care for you – you're my best friend and I need you." She found it hard to keep on looking into his eyes, the mantra running through her head were the next words she'd meant to say, but lacked the courage to do so: _but you're married. You're married. You're married._

"I need you too Lass."

"But you can't – we can't. Margaret is..."

"On her way to Atlanta, I imagine."

"You're married to eachother."

"I'm aware." He stood up, turned away from her, paced.

There was nothing more to say. That was it. She'd told him the truth – they'd reached the same, logical conclusion. She should leave.

She stood. "I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have come." She walked toward the door.

"No – I'm glad that you did." He turned to her.

She nodded, not looking him in the eye. "What now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do we just go on like before?"

He walked over to her, took hold of her arms. "We've done nothing wrong."

"No." She had to agree.

"I do care for you, and I wish I could offer you... everything, but I can't. Grantland's right about that."

"What did David say to you?"

"I can't make you happy. I can't give you what you need. And he's right."

She wondered how that had come up in conversation, and what else had. "I don't think that's quite true, Neil. But you won't – and I won't let you."

"I know that."

"But I'll go on being your friend, if you'll..." she felt the sob in her throat and couldn't speak without it escaping.

"You'll always have my friendship."

"Thank you." Tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked them away, swallowing, willing herself to control her emotions.

"Don't mention it." He turned away again.

"I should go." She opened the door and stepped out.

"Just don't marry him."

She turned at the request.

"I couldn't bare it. I know I've no right to ask it of you, but there it is." He took a step toward her. "Don't marry Grantland."

She shook her head and then turned and left him.

Out of sight of Neil's cabin, she let herself cry – and what a relief! But all too soon she was in sight of the Mission. School was not yet out. David would want to go over what had been covered in the afternoon's lessons. She pulled herself together and slid off her horse, tying him to a post.

David strolled out of the school, immediately recongnizing that she'd been upset – that she still was upset, but trying to hide it. His concern was touching and she was too tired to resist the comfort he offered. A hug was exactly what she needed. She didn't expect it to precede a proposal of marriage – but she should have. He'd warned her – he would put his ring on her finger or leave the notion of their marriage together behind forever.

His timing could have been better.

She pulled her hands away, leaving the ring box in his hands. "I'm sorry, David."

He steeled himself, snapped the box shut, turned away. "What are you doing out of your seats?" He demanded of the children and immediately followed them inside.

She watched him for a moment, then untied her horse and walked him back to the mission house. The tears rolled down her cheeks but there was nothing she could do to hide it, and there didn't seem much point in trying.

Miss Alice was crouched in the vegetable garden and looked up as Christy approached. Her smile vanished on seeing Christy's face. "What happened?"

Christy shook her head – what to say? What not to say?

Alice took the horse's reigns. "Is thee alright?"

"I... I'm fine. David..."

Alice nodded, "You have rejected his proposal?"

Christy nodded once.

Alice inhaled, long and slow. "Thou hast made a difficult decision."

Christy wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying to pull herself together.

"Was there something else?"

The tears welled again. She bit her lip and shook her head.

"You're under no obligation to tell me – but thee needn't pretend."

Christy reached out and Alice enveloped her in an embrace. "I don't know what to do."

"Must thee do anything?"

"I must do nothing."

"This is about Doctor MacNeil."

Christy braced herself.

"Thou art absolutely right."

"I've always been better at taking action."

"I know how you feel – my annual retreat is my desperate attempt to for once do nothing. Perhaps you should consider taking a retreat yourself."

"No, there is work to be done. I will work. Forgive me, Miss Alice, but no amount of thought and prayer will change... – what I mean is that I simply must go on. We must go on as we always have."

"If you wish – but I warn you not to underestimate the power of prayer."


	2. Not so indecisive

In light of Dan Scott's residence in the cove, Christy was becoming more and more aware of the inequalities that were accepted, even reinforced, in the children's minds. In attempt to challenge this thinking she began a unit on slavery. She told the story of John Newton, and the children gathered around the globe as she traced her finger across the Atlantic. They sang Amazing Grace before she let them go for the day.

"This is a bold theme." David spoke from the door as the last child leapt from the bottom step, leaving them alone.

"Grace? I suppose it's the boldest theme of all."

"Perhaps I could borrow your angle for a sermon."

She smiled, hoping this easy conversation boded well for the restoration and continuation of their friendship. "By all means."

"Let me get this straight – you want them to see that grace is available even to the worst sinner."

"Actually, that wasn't my point."

"What was?"

"That we are all equal in God's eyes."

"And all in need of grace."

"I suppose. And that as recipients of that grace, should extend the same grace to others – even those entirely different from ourselves."

"You're turning Dan Scott into an object lesson?"

"Not at all – though he may have motivated me to embark on this subject, I don't plan to mention him at all."

"You won't need to. The children will raise the subject."

She smiled.

He nodded once, "I'll see you at dinner."

"Yes." She sat down at her desk and looked out over the messy classroom. This was going to work fine. If David was struggling, he hid it well, and avoiding Neil seemed like an easy out – and it was easily done while he seemed to be avoiding her. Wise, perhaps. Not sustainable, but for a while a little distance couldn't hurt.

* * *

><p>That Saturday there was a working at Dan Scott's, to rebuild his cabin. Christy was not surprised, when she arrived, to find only the Spencers, McHone's and Mission folk had turned up. Then she saw Neil was there too, further down the hill, hacking away at a tree. She watched him for an indulgent moment, remembering how David's hands had been torn up and raw after a day of such work.<p>

She forced herself to turn away. Fairlight approached her, hands outstretched to take the baskets of food Christy held. The food was an easy and natural topic of conversation, then recipes and tips, chased by where to get the ingredients – garden wisdom and where in the cove to gather everything from berries to mushrooms. The morning passed easily for Christy, Alice, Opal and Fairlight – kindred spirits by any standard. Taking turns holding Iris McHone was a charming highlight and when it wasn't their turn, there was a quilt to work on – one they meant for Dan, at Alice's suggestion; a welcome gift, and an apology for the poor welcome, perhaps.

They served the men lunch. Christy looked at their hands. This was different – none were doing themselves damage today. They were working hard, but carefully. Christy admonished herself for worrying over nothing. She slid a slice of pie onto Doctor MacNeil's plate and looked up at him with a smile.

"Thank you." It was heartfelt, loaded.

She shook her head – thanks was unnecessary.

In the evening Neil and Dan returned to the Mission, on Miss Alice's invitation to dinner.

David and Neil may not have been full of good-humour toward oneanother, but it was not noticable among such a merry party. They'd made good progress, collecting a significant amount of lumber, and building the most part of two walls, all in one day. At this rate, Dan's cabin could be finished before winter set in.

Alice told Daniel a story about his childhood, one that he did not remember. They talked and laughed, and Christy escaped. It was quiet outside. The moon was bright and comforting. She stood on the porch and looked at it for a moment. Hearing someone approach from inside, she descended the steps and walked away from the Mission house.

She wondered how things would ever change – modelling acceptance and equity could need years to take effect. She sought an idea, something that might make her lessons more influencial, that might make the children see that equality was important, that is was fair and right and good. Nothing came to her and she sighed.

"It can't be that bad."

She turned to see Neil sitting on the steps, in the shadows. "It's not."

"Very convincing." He teased. "You were very quiet tonight."

"Was I?" She walked back towards him. "I didn't mean to be. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Relax, you're not in trouble."

She smiled and sat down beside him. "I was just thinking about Dan – how it might be a while before he's really accepted here, if ever."

He nodded. "I'd say things are going better than expected."

"Really?"

"Perhaps my expectations were lower than yours."

"I suppose I can be a little overly-optimistic. Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Maybe you're just overly pessimistic."

"Entirely possible." His tone was dark, sombre.

"I was teasing – you're a realist." She watched him, "I didn't mean it, Neil."

"Don't trouble yourself."

She struggled to make out his expression in the dim light.

"I hear you're teaching the children about the evils of slavery."

She hesitated, "That's not entirely the point of the lesson, but yes."

"Ever the optimist."

"I have to do what I can. If it fails to help it won't be because I didn't try."

"Aye."

"But you think it will fail?"

"Does it matter what I think?"

"To me, it does."

"Once upon a time I'd have tried to stop you."

"You'd have told me off for interferring, warned me not to try and change things."

"Exactly."

"And now?"

"I know better than to try and stand in your way."

She smiled. "I suppose I want to show them that as soon as we start thinking of one group of people as lesser, as inferior, we start on a path that ultimately ends in tragedy. Freedom depends on equality, on tolerance of difference, on grace, really."

"It's in their heritage too, you know. The Scots. You want a story of oppression and inequality, one that's guaranteed to resonate, that might be the place to start."

"A little easier to identify with, I suppose, than the africans."

He nodded.

"And less likely to get children kept home from school."

"Aye."

She thought for a minute, "Would you help me?"

"With what?"

"Telling them the story – would you tell them about the Scots? I know a little of the history, and I'm sure I have it in a book, but you tell stories so well, and it's your story too."

She was taken aback by the look in his eyes – in part surprise, and perhaps heartfelt thanks. He nodded, nervously looking down at his hands.

"What is it?"

He shook his head and stood up. "When shall I come?"

"Tuesday? First thing?"

"That's fine."

She got up, put her hand on his arm, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

She looked up at him confused, concerned.

"Leave it, Christy."

She pulled back her hand from his arm, suddenly concious of her close proximity. Turning, she ascended the stairs, feeling his eyes on her all the way.

He didn't go back inside. She assumed he'd gone home and didn't know if relief or frustration were the stronger emotion she wrestled with in response.

* * *

><p>The children gathered around the globe to see where Scotland was. Christy traced a line with her finger between Cutter Gap and Glasgow. She asked them what they knew about Scotland and got kilts and bagpipes and tartans in reply.<p>

Doctor MacNeil arrived at the door in full regalia – hat and sash and skirt, socks up to his knees and a silly smirk on his face.

The children saw their teacher's wide-eyed amusement and turned to find the cause.

Christy stepped into the background as Neil wove a tale, beginning with why he was wearing a skirt and working his way back through history to the brutal oppression of their ancestors. The children were enchanted, enthralled. To explain a battle he dubbed half the class english, half scots, and rearranged them and the furniture to show formations.

She watched him, and she watched the children. She nudged the shy, younger children forward, encouraging their involvement.

They had played out one particular battle, a good twist making it a good tale, and were going to try again, this time without stopping for instructions. Neil stood back and cried, 'Go!' then laughed, shamelessly at the chaos ensuing. He looked up and caught Christy watching him. The laugh froze on his lips. Time seemed to stop; the children's cacophony, unheard.

"I'm dying teacher!" A small child collided with Christy, snapping her attention from the doctor.

She laughed and went to her knees, taking the small child in her arms. She looked up again. He was still watching her. Then he looked away, returned to the task at hand, untangled Zach from Sam Houston, and then yelled over the din, "Last one back in their seat will be tidying up this room at dinner break."

More noise, this time chairs and desks scraping, accompanied the children's rush to comply. She watched, but it wasn't clear who was last sitting.

"It's Miz Christy." Creed piped up.

She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"You're absolutely right." The doctor replied. "And so, the battle was won, but not the war." He went on with his tale, right up to present day. When the tale was finished he looked to Christy.

"Thank you, Doctor MacNeil, that was... enchanting."

"Thanks Doc," a handful of kids added.

"You're welcome."

"It's time for dinner break," Christy moved herself to the front of the class, "so off you go."

They clamoured from the room, watched by both the adults.

"Thank you." She said again.

"It was fun."

"It was." She grinned as he turned to her. "You're a wonderful teacher."

"I don't know about that."

"Well, I do. But don't just take my word on it. I'm going to have them write essays on this, the older ones that is, and the younger ones will be drawing pictures. You'll see – they were soaking that up like sponges. I've rarely seen them so enthralled."

"It's their history. They forget there's so much to be proud of."

She nodded, wondering if he was brushing of her thanks and praise because he didn't believe it. "Having them act it out was inspired. I never could follow those battle diagrams in history at school." She started straightening the desks and chairs into their rows.

He helped her. "I just thought they were getting restless. I was a boy in school myself once."

"Well, it worked perfectly."

He passed her a chair. "I think you're right to take on this topic, brave as always."

"I'm not always brave, Neil." She looked down the rows, checking they were even.

"Is that right?"

"I get scared of all sorts of things – silly things and not."

"Like what?"

She laughed, "The dark, for instance."

"You wouldn't know it."

"Well, sometimes I just have to pretend like I'm not scared and get on with things."

"A better definition of courage I've never heard."

"How about coming to school dressed like that? That's pretty brave."

"Figured I'd get their attention, keep it a minute longer maybe."

"Would many of the families still have their ancestor's tartans?"

"Probably not. I don't see much of it around."

"It's a shame."

He nodded.

The desks were in order and they stood in the doorway, looking out over the yard, the children playing and eating and talking in twos and threes.

"I better be going." He stepped out the door and hesitated.

"Alright, thank you – again, I know – but I mean it."

He turned, took her hand, "Don't."

She looked at him, confused.

"You're the one who should be thanked. You don't know the difference you've made." He dropped her hand as if just realizing that he was holding it. "I don't mean today, or even recently," he shook his head as if he couldn't find the words and the ones he'd tried weren't good enough. "You've brought such light, I sound like Alice, I mean hope."

She smiled at his bumbling, at what he had said.

He sighed, "Keep doing what you're doing, is all I mean to say."

She nodded and he stepped back away from her, reluctant to leave, but on his way nonetheless.


	3. The notsogood Doctor

Doctor Ferrand arrived the following week. So far things were going better than his previous visit – for starters, Miss Alice was not bedriden and there were no parcels of solicited donations flooding in, distracting everyone, and getting Christy in trouble for her methods.

Christy had taken in the children's essays, marked them, and handed most of them back, but she'd asked permission to hold onto a handful of the best. She was reading over them at the breakfast table, trying to decide what to do with them. This level of work was inspiring, and she wanted to share it – she could copy it out for the younger children, have the writers read it at the end-of-year recitation, maybe put together a book to go in their school library, with their own writing in it.

Doctor Ferrand joined her at breakfast. "Those look impressive."

"They are. But I can't take the credit. These were written in response to Doctor MacNeil's lesson last week." She handed over Rob Allen's essay.

"Doctor MacNeil has been teaching lessons at the school?"

"Yes, Science mostly, but last week he told a short history of Scotland – it was remarkable. The children love to hear their own history, of course, but Doctor MacNeil told it so well."

"Hm..."

Christy wondered if she'd done something wrong, but the thought was interrupted by the arrival of David and Miss Alice, closely followed by Ruby Mae.

* * *

><p>The following day Christy remembered her promise to show Neil the children's essays. She hadn't yet decided what else to do with them, but this was a good place to start. The children would value the Doctor's good opinion more than most, and she couldn't help also being impatient to show him how his lesson had influenced them, inspired them.<p>

She found him up to his knees in the river.

"Miss Huddleston, what a pleasant surprise."

"Doctor, I brought you some essays." She held the collection of papers. "I have never had them hand in work of this quality before. I think you'll enjoy them."

"I'm sure I will." He waded in to shore, taking in the line as he walked.

"Oh, you don't have to stop fishing. I'm not in a hurry. I can even leave them with you, if you like."

"Would you like to join me?"

She hesitated, "I would, but I don't think..."

"Here," He interrupted her and handed her his rod. "I'll get my other one from inside."

She took the rod, smiling, and watched him go. Putting the essays back in her satchel, she took the bag off, and put it on a dry tree root. She tried to remember what he'd taught her last time and had the line in the water by the time he returned.

"Good memory." He stepped up behind her as she lifted the rod and flicked the line out further. "Just let is happen, relax."

She did just the opposite, with him standing so close behind her.

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Relax, you just have to wait."

She willed her muscles to cooperate, putting her shoulders down and back, letting the water guide her line.

"Better."

She felt his breath on her neck and shivered. Fortunately he'd moved away, picking up his other rod from the stones, and casting out into the river.

"I hear Ferrand's back – checking up on you again."

"Neil," she scolded him half-heartedly, "he's staying at the mission, yes."

He nodded.

"He's not so bad as you think."

"He's a sanctimonious egomaniac. You forgive too easily."

"He forgave me, you know. His mission has done a lot of good here – you've said it yourself."

"You'd done nothing wrong, to begin with, and I thought it was God's mission."

She sighed.

"_You've_ done a lot of good here, Alice too, even Grantland, but Ferrand wanted you gone because of some narrow-minded idea of how to do good."

"I was out of line – not in everything, but he wasn't entirely wrong – in fact you've accused me of the same thing – rushing in, trying to do too much, too soon. Sound familiar?"

"I was worried about your safety, and the people of the cove. He's worried about some high moral code that's entirely irrelevant to real life here."

It was sweet, his defence of her, but unnecessary. Still, arguing about it seemed silly. "Tell me, is it true that fishing is more effective when we're quiet?"

He looked at her, stunned, then cracked a smile and shook his head. "Yes."

"I appreciate your concern but everything is fine. If I need you to ride in and save me, I'll let you know." He laughed and she watched him, addicted to the sound.

"That'd be the most graceful way I've ever been told to stop yammerin."

She pretended a little bow, lost her footing and put her hands down in the stream to keep from falling in entirely.

He rushed over to her as she stood up. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine – just wet." She handed him her fishing rod and squeezed out the hem of her skirts. Next she unbuttoned her sleeves and rolled them up, squeezing the waterout as she went.

He watched her, "Come on, let's go inside. Don't want you getting cold."

She nodded, picked up her satchel and followed him up to the cabin.

Neil made coffee while she rotisseried herself infront of the hearth.

"I feel like such a goof." She rolled down a sodden sleeve and held it out to the heat of the fire.

"Don't worry, I wasn't watching."

She laughed. "Well, that's something."

"Will it dry like this? I mean, you could..." He didn't say it aloud but the unspoken offer of a dress that once belonged to Margaret hung in the air between them.

"It will dry. I might just have to stand here for a while."

"Lucky me." He held out a cup of coffee and she took it in both hands, holding it up to her face and inhaling its scent.

"It seems like such a long time ago, doesn't it?"

"What does? Oh – when you dried off here."

She nodded. "That was only the second time I'd met you. So strange."

"Thanks."

"No, I meant, it's strange thinking back – little did I know..."

"Little did you know what?"

"How important you'd be to me."

"Oh." He busied himself, stoking the fire, adding a log. "I still have it." He spoke again several minutes later. "The dress. I should have given it back to her. I don't know why I didn't."

"I was so surprised – you weren't who I'd I assumed you were. You called me on it too, challenged me – you have a knack for that."

"Glad to be of service." He sat back on a chair. "But I've been out of line on more than one occasion – I blamed you and lectured you, and you have borne it like no other woman would have borne it."1

She watched him, surprised at his forthright manner.

He must have been recalling their conversation that day, because he continued, "And as I heard it, young Mountie spoke to you first."

Christy smiled. "She said 'buttons' – I'd sewn them onto her coat."

"That's not all you'd done."

She turned to face the fire, the back of her skirts were now much drier than the front. Remembering that day, she spoke. "I'd been about to leave. I was all packed and ready to trudge on down to El Pano. I don't know what made me go back to the school for one last... and then I saw Mountie's coat and figured I could do that for her – if nothing else."

"I didn't know that. What made you stay?"

"Mountie."

He watched her, considering, then stood up. "You should tell her that – one day."

Christy thought, then nodded, turning to him. "I will."

Doctor MacNeil took her back to the mission on horseback. They didn't speak for almost the enitire trip. It was strange being so close to him. Somethink like a sense of honour kept her from leaning into him, relaxing against his back. Her hands were around his waist, and occasionally he covered them with one of his own.

The contact felt like an indulgence, harmless enough, but enjoyed so greatly is must be wrong. She'd had a dream about riding with him once. David had looked on but she'd ridden off with Neil, recklessly abandoning everything for...

She looked to the Mission – no David in sight. Only Ferrand, standing on the porch, looking out at them. He turned, went inside, slamming the door.

Neil turned to see if Christy had noticed their reception.

She looked worried.

Neil hopped down and helped Christy to the ground. Of course Ferrand, followed by Miss Alice, came out again, while Neil's hands were still around Christy's waist.

"This is a Christian mission." Ferrand bellowed. "I'll not stand for this. How can you allow this sort of thing to go on right under your nose."

"What's happened?" Christy walked up two steps before she got blasted.

"You've a non-believer teaching at the school – the Mission school! And then this."

Christy gripped the hand rail and stepped back down a step.

"This?" Alice stepped up, "This is a friendship, not so dissimilar from our own, I daresay."

"This is an abomination. Neither of us is married."

"Nothing improper has happened," Neil's voice sounded loaded, fury hidden behind a veil of disbelief, confusion and fear. "Ever."

"How can anyone be certain of that?"

Christy looked from Ferrand to Neil, and back to Ferrand, "You can't – but you can choose to trust me."

"And why should I trust you?"

"Because I do." Alice stepped forward, between Doctor Ferrand and Miss Huddleston. "Jacob, listen to me, Doctor MacNeil's involvement in this mission has never been a problem before. He has expertise and a willingness to help – not to mention influence and the respect of his people. He is on a journey – but so are we all."

"He is clearly _not_ on the journey." Ferrand retorted.

Neil climbed back onto his horse and sped off. Christy watched him go, but tore her eyes away, summoning the strength to face the coming onslaught.

"Please," she begged, ascending the steps. "This is not Doctor MacNeil's fault – I saw an opportunity for the children's own history to be a part of their lessons. It was I who asked him to teach – and he did, as I could not have done. I don't understand why this is such a terrible thing – he did not speak about faith or God at all."

"I do not blame Doctor MacNeil." Doctor Ferrand turned and went inside.

Alice slowly turned to Christy. "Leave it – once he's calmed down I will try to explain." She sighed, "Your timing could have been better."

"I only went to show him the essays the children wrote. Miss Alice, I've never read such inspired, articulate... this is their best work. Surely God is in this."

"Tracing the hand of God is..." she sighed, "No, I believe God uses Neil MacNeil, despite his resistance. But there is a fine line to walk here."

Christy nodded and Alice left her there. She daren't go inside, fearing another confrontation with Doctor Ferrand – he was not the only one who needed to calm down. She took a deep breath and walked up to the school.

Lighting a lamp, she sat at her desk and looked over the books and papers there. She tried to refocus – what story could she tell that might impact the students, might help them to understand and accept difference? Neil had spoken with fervour and integrity, pride and honesty – because he felt it was his story. What was her story? She had lived a sheltered life, rarely confronted with difference, and certainly not different herself, till she arrived in Cutter Gap, that is.

Could she tell them that story? They had accepted her and she was different. Suddenly inspired she started writing down and rephrasing questions she hoped would spark an animated and informative class discussion.

She decided to try it the next day.

"Who remembers? Why was it that the English and the Scottish peoples didn't like eachother very much?"

Ruby Mae's hand shot up and Christy nodded at her, "Because the English stole their land and made bad laws."

"Okay, and why did the English do that?"

"They waz greedy." Creed Allen piped up without waiting for his turn.

"Hands up, thank you," Christy gracefully admonished. "Why else? Why the Scots?" This time she nodded to Creed.

"Cause they was different – they wore funny skirts like the Doc, and they talked funny, and stuff."

"Thank you Creed. That's exactly right. They didn't like eachother because they were different. Now is that a good reason to dislike someone? Now before you answer I want you to think back to when I first arrived in Cutter Gap. I was different." She waited, giving them time to consider. "Who remembers? How was I different?"

"You had right pretty clothes – still do though." Ruby Mae answered.

Christy raised her hand to model the behaviour she desired.

"Sorry Miz."

"Zady Spencer," Christy called on the next student to answer.

"You talked like no one I ever heard before. At first I could barely make sense of your words."

"Yes – and the way you speak sounded strange to me too. But I have learned to understand and now I barely even notice. Do you find it easier to understand me now, Zady?"

"Yes'm."

"And you know what else? I sometimes talk differently than I used to – I have assimilated." She wrote the word A-S-S-I-M-I-L-A-T-E-D on the blackboard. "That means I have changed and become more like the people here."

John Spencer put his hand up and she called on him. "We've assimilated too, Miz Christy. We sometimes use funny city words and say things different from how we used to – cause we hear how you say it."

"Exactly. Alright, this is excellent. Now I want you all to do a piece of writing for me – telling me about something that frightened or bothered you, or something you didn't like or understand about me when I first came here. And then I want you to tell me how it has changed."

"You mean like how we learned about the city so now we understand more of what you says."

"Yes, Little Burl. That's exaclty what I mean. This will be entitled 'How I came to accept someone different.' I want to know what it was that helped you accept me, because it means so much to me. I was so scared when I first came here – I was going to be the odd one out and I knew it."

"Then why'd you come, teacher?" Sam Houston asked.

"Because I knew it was what God wanted me to do. I was scared alright, but I asked God to make me brave so I could come anyway. I also prayed that he would help you all to accept me, and help me to understand why things were so different here." She smiled at their wide eyes and grubby faces – a captive audience. She hadn't got them reenacting anything, yet, but so far, so good.

This was no epic tale – but it was their shared story, and as they children put their heads down and started scratching out their essays she watched in awe and silently thanked God for their love and acceptance. "Please let Doctor Ferrand understand." She thought, adding that plea to her prayer before she turned to the youngest pupils, the front row, and instructed them to draw a picture of her when she first arrived in Cutter Gap. "You show me just how funny I looked that first day."

It was not the inspiring tale of epic proportions, a history worthy of books and art, but their essays warmed her heart and made her smile. It shook her, the realization, once again, of how much she loved these children.

The fear that she might have to leave them, that Doctor Ferrand's reproach was not just words, haunted her, but she shook it off and looked over the pictures. Lulu Spencer had given her a veritable halo of golden hair. She laughed and put the picture aside, beginning to read over the younger children's stilted but heartfelt paragraphs.

"You're faring this well." David stook at the doorway and stepped forward as she looked up at him.

"Faring what well?"

"Ferrand's... disapproval."

She shrugged, "Not really, but I have work to keep me busy and there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it, so..."

"You should be careful. MacNeil isn't worth the risk. You're needed here."

"Thank you, David, but I've done nothing 'risky'. Doctor Ferrand has made assumptions about me, and about Doctor MacNeil, and he seems determined to hold onto those, regardless of the opinions of those who know both of us much better than he does."

David nodded. "I vouched for you. He insisted I visit MacNeil – I think he hopes I'll interrogate him, but we both know that's not the way to get an honest answer from the man. Anyway, I'll ride over first thing tomorrow."

"I'm sorry you have to be in the middle of all this."

"I don't mind. I still care for you Christy. I won't stand by and see you discharged for only doing the best you can for these children. Although, I suppose that's not all he's concerned about."

"David, you know MacNeil and I are _just_ friends?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "I trust you, Christy, and strangely enough, I trust MacNeil as well. So, as his Reverend..." He grinned, "Well, maybe oneday, eh?"

Christy smiled, "Thank you David. This means a lot to me."

He nodded and left her, calling back as he descended the steps, "Supper is on the table."

* * *

><p>1 From <em>Emma<em>, by Jane Austen. (Mr Knightly says this to Emma.)


	4. Sit 'n visit

"Doctor Jacob Ferrand, I'd like to introduce Daniel Scott, our newest addition to the mission." Alice's smile was unshakable, Christy noted as she descended the stairs into the scene.

Daniel held out his hand and Ferrand paused only a moment before taking it, shaking firmly.

"And what is your role here Mr Scott?"

"I aim to help wherever I'm needed, but I am studying under Doctor MacNeil – an apprentice of sorts – and hope to use my growing medical knowledge to serve the people of these mountains, and share some of Miss Alice's and Doctor MacNeil's burden."

"A noble goal." Ferrand continued to question Daniel about his home, his time in Cutter Gap so far, his cabin and the events surrounding the burning of his first attempt at a home.

Christy excused herself, feeling a little guilty because she was relieved not to be the target that morning. It was a Saturday and she'd planned to walk with Fairlight, visit Aunt Hattie, and enjoy some peace and quiet, meandering across the mountains. She gathered a book, a bible, some fruit and biscuits, a gift for Aunt Hattie – she'd trade it for a story or two if she could. Basket in hand, she walked to Fairlight's.

The walk to the Spencer's was an exercise in quieting her mind, but by the time the Spencer's cabin came into view she'd breathed in enough mountain air to calm her right down. With Fairlight, she walked up past Dan Scott's – his half finished cabin was looking more and more like it might be someone's home one day.

"Is Mister Scott down at the mission today?"

"Yes, he's meeting Doctor Ferrand."

"Oh."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothin – only I heard a rumour and I was wondering..."

"What is it, Fairlight?"

"Well, I heard a whisperin about you being sent away – it aint true is it?"

"No – well, no."

"You're worried about something – if it aint that what is it?"

"Doctor Ferrand is concerned about – oh, it's ridiculous no matter how I say it – he's concerned about Doctor MacNeil's involvement in the mission's work – at the school, training Dan Scott..." she shook her head in disbelief, "He disapproves because Neil isn't a believer."

Fairlight didn't answer for several steps. They were climbing a steep incline and puffing to much to talk comfortably. When they reached the top Fairlight leaned against a tree, looking back where they'd come from, out over the mountain ranges.

"He might become one – being around the mission all the time could help him."

"Yes."

"Are you sure that's all that's botherin Doctor Ferrand?"

Christy started walking again and Fairlight jogged to catch up.

"Is it because of your friendship?"

Christy slowed down then stopped.

"Your friendship with the Doc."

"Yes."

Fairlight put her arm around Christy's shoulder.

"Is there talk?" Christy asked.

"Around the cove? There's always talk."

"What are they saying?"

"Christy..." Fairlight warned.

"No, I need to know what's being said. I need to know how bad it is."

"It's not real bad – just that you're sweet on eachother."

Christy looked up at the trees towering above them.

"It's not like when Bessie Coburn told that lie about you'n John. But you was with Doc then, and I guess you're with him plenty o' times, so people just assume, but there's no slander."

Christy sighed.

"If Ferrand sent you away people might jump to some conclusions though. But I s'pose then it won't matter none – you'd be gone."

"I suppose."

"I'd hate for your good name to be sullied, it being a pack o' lies 'n all."

"Leaving would be the worst part. I don't know what to do Fairlight. I can't bare the thought of going back to Ashville for good."

"I'd miss you some'n fierce."

Christy turned to Fairlight and hugged her tight. "I'd miss you too."

* * *

><p>Miss Hattie welcomed Christy with open arms and they shared her biscuits.<p>

"You've heard near all my songs, Christy. Do you have a request?"

"Actually, I was wondering about something. I've been trying to teach the children about accepting people who are different."

"You're trying to help Daniel?"

"In part – but it's an important lesson. Forgiveness and grace. I'm an outsider here, but the children accept me now, and my mistakes have been forgiven. I'll always be an outsider, perhaps, but there was something Doctor MacNeil told me once – that when he came back from Scotland he was a stranger, divided from himself, and he had to work hard to earn the trust of his own people."

"Neil was young, he had all the answers." Hattie laughed, "It was hard for him. He was idealistic, knew he could help, but they wouldn't let him. Coming home was hard. That boy worked harder than I've ever seen a body work – it cost him everything but it earned their trust and that meant he could help, so it was worth it."

"He had to prove himself again and again."

"And he still does, though he doesn't _have_ to any more, he just thinks he does."

"He's still an outsider?"

"In a way." Hattie went on to tell the tale of an ancestor of hers who married an outsider. He went from being in the centre of the community, everyone's friend, never had to watch his back, to being suspect and excluded, as fast as he could say 'I do'. It was a love story and a sad story. He eventually died and his wife and their children moved away.

Christy was waiting for the rest of the story.

"You were hoping for a happy ending?"

"I guess I was."

Hattie laughed graciously, "Those young'ns like you a lot, Christy. And their folks, for the most part like you, trust you in their way. You've only been here two years, but it seems a lot longer. And Daniel – well he's doing okay. He has some friends and you don't need much more'n a few friends."

"True."

"I feel like a song. What do you say, Miss Huddleston? Will you sing with me?"

Christy laughed, "I may not be very harmonic."

"I don't mind." She began, "He took wild mountain laurel and he twined it in her hair. She said she didn't love him, she said she didn't care..."

* * *

><p>She still had the song going around her head when she went to bed that night. It made her think of Neil and Margaret – as if she needed any further encouragement to think about Neil. She hadn't seen him since Ferrand's censure. She tried to speculate as to how he was reacting. He was staying away, that was for sure, and it was probably for the best.<p>

Christy was glad to find Alice at breakfast alone.

"I need to know, Miss Alice." She poured herself a cup of tea. "Am I going to be sent away?"

Alice's sigh could have been heard from another room.

Christy guessed at its meaning, "He hasn't decided yet. What can I do?"

"Teach, Christy. Love those children, do your work. I believe Doctor Ferrand will see. Don't forget, it's in God's hands."

"I know."

"I must admit, I'm impressed, and relieved, that Neil hasn't been back to defend your honour."

Christy smiled at the truth of it.

"He's taking it well?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since that day."

"Oh, well that's probably for the best."

David came and joined them, then Doctor Ferrand. He was polite but cold. They ate, went to church, then went their seperate ways. David and Ferrand had repairs to do on the Mission house, Alice sought solitude, and Christy spent the afternoon with Ruby Mae – for once glad of the constant chatter that didn't leave her space for thought.

* * *

><p>There was to be another working the following Saturday up at Dan Scott's. Christy started to view it as a kind of test, of whether her teaching this term had been a success. She'd asked David to do his bible lessons on Grace. He told them of Zaccheus, of the debtors who'd been forgiven, of the rich man who'd invited the homeless to his banquet when his guests didn't show up. He talked about how God sees the inside, the heart of men and women, how it doesn't matter if we look fancy and proper, if we impress people, so long as we are God's children.<p>

"So we just gotta impress God?" Sam Houston asked.

"You have the right idea – but in a way we don't need to impress God because he already loves us just as we are."

"Are you trying to tell me that that negro man is just the same as me if you took his skin off?"

David stifled a laugh. "Yes, Burl, exactly the same."

"Naw, caint believe that."

"Well, it's true."

"Maybe we should ask the Doc."

"Go right ahead."

"But he aint here."

"No – but you can ask him another time."

"But I heared he aint comin back to the mission no more, he aint allowed to teach us no more."

David hesitated – this hadn't been part of his lesson plan. "Doc MacNeil would be happy to answer your questions, even if he isn't here. And you know when you can talk to him? On Saturday, at the working."

"Oh."

David had a feeling Burl wouldn't be there.

* * *

><p>When they arrived at the working, Christy was disappointed to see the same crowd had gathered as last time. No difference; her unit had made no difference at all.<p>

Neil was working an axe like his life depended on it, stoically ignoring their arrival.

Later in the morning, Christy took him a drink.

He sat back on a tree stump to catch his breath and looked past her, up the slope, at the others. No one was watching them.

"Thank you." He finished the cup of water in one go.

"More?"

He shook his head and stood up.

She started to move away.

"Christy," he held out some papers he'd just pulled from a pocket.

She took them – the student's essays.

He smiled sadly and got back to work.

She unfolded the essays as she returned to the ladies. Alice looked at them in interest.

"The children's essays – the best of them." Christy handed them to Alice, who read a few lines and whispered, 'remarkable', before putting them aside to read later.

She must have done so that evening, because she found Christy getting ready for bed.

"Is everything alright?" Christy asked on receiving her visitor.

"Fine," Alice held the a single page in her hand, "I was reading the children's essays."

"Aren't they wonderful? What do you think I should do with them? It seems such a waste to put them in a drawer some place. I was wondering about making a book with their best work from the year."

Alice nodded. "That's a fine idea, Christy. I found this between the pages."

Christy looked quizical but took the offered page – a letter. She scanned down to the signature – N.

She looked up to see Alice disappear around the closing door, then sat down on her bed and read,

_Dear Christy,_

_Thank you for sharing these with me. I don't know how to tell you how much this means to me. The children have come a long way in such a short time. I couldn't forgive myself if I was a party to the end of their education. I can't bare to think of your leaving. I'll stay away as long as necessary, but know that it's not because I wish to._

_I am sorry I abandoned you that day. I was afraid I might say or do something to make things worse. It seemed like the best course of action at the time. I have started out so many times, planning to confront him, but I fear it would only make things worse._

_Rob Allen's assertion that we must accept even those who we do not like or understand has been weighing on me. You might be able to do it, but I doubt I ever will. Ferrand should be schooled in your classroom. Is there anything anyone can say to work on him? Daniel Scott has informed me I am no longer to teach him either. He has shown great potential – is it all to be wasted because of this foolish man?_

_I cannot believe so much can be lost over such a small thing – a day's lesson, an afternoon in your company. The price is too high._

_Yours,_

_N._

She read it over again and again. Folding it, she held it to her chest.

* * *

><p>"I will be leaving in one week." Ferrand announced after they'd all exchanged 'good mornings'.<p>

"I'm sorry to hear that," Alice was all grace, "but of course you must have much work waiting for you at Lufty Branch and..."

"Yes. But before I go I need to be certain that things will be managed in the correct manner from now on."

"Of course," Alice nodded, sipped her tea, "perhaps, before you leave, you might visit the school, observe the first lesson."

"I have no doubt of Miss Huddleston's ability to teach reading and writing."

Alice nodded. She was walking a fine line.

"My concerns lie elsewhere, as you know. Miss Huddleston, you and I will be leaving next Saturday."

They all looked at him, shocked.

"As for Mr Scott, the purpose of this mission must not be sidetracked for one man. When I return I will assess the suitability and success of his position here, and a decision can be made at that time."

Christy could see that Alice was gritting her teeth.

"And so, David, shall we go to church?" Ferrand pushed his chair back.


	5. So there's a clue

Christy couldn't sing a word and hold back her tears at the same time. As soon as the service was finished, she fled. One week? She'd have to tell the children tomorrow. She'd have to say goodbye to everyone. She couldn't allow herself to think of Neil. Not yet.

David found her, late in the afternoon, sitting by lake, hidden by the reeds. "I can't believe you're leaving. There has to be a way."

She turned to him, then turned away, unequal to the look in his eyes.

"What if we were engaged – then he'd have to believe in your honour."

"David..." She just couldn't. Not only would she go against her heart, hurt him in the long run, but there was no way to be certain Ferrand would think any better of her.

"No, I suppose not." He left her.

* * *

><p>On Monday morning, when she announced her departure, the children went beserk. Their questions and exclamations took up half the morning, and even when she got into their other lessons, they kept going back to it.<p>

"I just cain't believe it Miz Christy. I cain't get no more learnin' and nothin'll be the same anymore." Zady spoke quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear, but the class were quieter than ever.

"You can keep on learning, Zady," Christy took hold of the girl's hand. "I'll make sure you have some books to work from, you can share them with the others, and maybe ask Reverend Grantland for help when you get stuck."

"And Doc, I spose. He could help with the maths and science, like he used to."

"I'm sure if you asked him," she paused, trying to reign in her emotions.

"Are you alright teacher?"

"No, Zady. I am sad to be leaving."

The girl hugged her. "We is sad too, Miz Christy."

Naturally they had an audience by now, and several of the audience agreed.

Christy pulled herself together. "But there's nothing we can do but go on. I need you all to be strong – you can keep learning. You can do anything you set your minds to."

* * *

><p>On the Tuesday she pitched her plan to her class. "I have an idea for how you can keep learning when I'm gone." They were a captive audience. "We have all the books, we have maps and paper, everything we need to have school. Already you take responsibility for some of your own learning. While I'm helping the older children with their mathematics, you younger ones do your reading together. And while I'm helping the younger ones, you older children often work on your own from textbooks, helping eachother when you get stuck. You can teach eachother."<p>

"But none of us knows much like you do, teacher." John Spencer piped up.

"But you know enough to teach the younger students, John. This is my idea – I know it will be hard, but I believe in you. John, you can teach music, and Zady can tutor the little ones in their maths, Rob you can coordinate the reading groups and set writing assignments. I can write up timetables and lesson plans for you and Mr Grantland will be here – he can help some of the time."

"I don't know, Miz Christy," Ruby Mae shook her head. "It aint gonna be much like school without no teacher."

"I know. It will be different. But I think we should give it a try – this week, while I'm still here. I want each of you to think about something you know, or something you're good at, that you can teach to someone else. You're going to make up a lesson and then I'll take them in and have a look at them."

"Cain't hurt to try it I spose." Creed started scratching away, apparently inspired. Soon they were all working.

* * *

><p>Reading over their lesson ideas that afternoon, she gave up biting the tears back and let herself cry. She felt better for it. And their lesson ideas were fantastic – colourful and creative. She should have done this months ago. She started planning out weeks of class programs, assigning 'teachers' and 'tutors' to subjects and grades. There was so much to be done before she left if this was really going to have a chance. When she got back to the mission it was late. She went straight to the kitchen, hoping to find some left-over supper.<p>

"Jacob, this is a terrible thing to do." Alice's voice carried through from the parlour. "I am begging you to reconsider."

"Based on what?"

"The good she has done here – read this essay. You know the way these children speak. Read Rob Allen's essay – why, even Ruby Mae's essay."

"They are remarkable children, but they will not have a teacher who lacks a moral compass, not in this mission."

"Christy knows right from wrong, and so does Neil MacNeil."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes."

"He barely acknowledges the existance of God, let alone believes in his power and wisdom. He neither attends church, nor professes faith. How can a man like that know right from wrong."

"God is not limited by our failures. You know that. We all make mistakes – He can be glorified by any one of them."

"When we repent – yes. Neil MacNeil has not repented. Has Christy?"

"What is it you think she needs to repent for?"

Christy didn't hear his answer. She fled the house. Walking off her fury, she returned to the school. She knew better than to wander in the mountains alone at night. Alice found her there later that evening.

"I brought thee some supper. Why are you working so late when there are only three days of school left?"

Christy thanked her for the supper and told her the idea she'd had for the children.

Alice looked at her, shaking her head, a smile touching her lips.

"What?"

"You are a remarkable young woman, Miss Huddleston."

"I had to do something. I can't just abandon them."

"That's hardly what is happening here."

"I had to do what I could. I hope it won't mean too much more work for you and David. They are so eager to learn."

"That is in part because of you."

"I just hope they won't give up."

Alice nodded. "Have you written to your parents?"

Christy shook her head, "I tried; I couldn't put it on paper. I will though. I have to."

"I can understand why you might prefer to explain in person. Did the children ask why you were leaving?"

"I told them that sometimes people disagree and they can't always resolve it."

"This, in the middle of lessons on acceptance and grace. How unfortunate. I have not given up, Christy. I will keep trying to convince him of... I will keep trying."

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>The children were enjoying working in groups, teaching oneanother. Christy wanderered around the room, eavesdropping on their conversations, offering advice and encouragement as it was needed. As she reached the back of the room she saw Doctor MacNeil ride up to the mission as if there were a medical emergency. She watched, half expecting Alice to come out, kit in hand, and ride away with him to save a life. But no one came out of the house. Christy's attention was brought back to the class, but as soon as school was finished she went to find out what was going on.<p>

Neil was alone in the kitchen. She stopped at the door, steeling herself to tell him goodbye. He turned, hearing her foot step, and stood.

"Has something happened?" She stepped into the room, closer to him.

"Ferrand had a heart attack – he's alright. For now."

"I thought a heart attack meant..."

"Not always." He moved closer to her.

"So he'll be fine?"

Neil nodded. "He'll need to rest. I don't think you'll be leaving on Saturday."

"You knew?"

"I heard – yesterday. If I hadn't stayed away I'd have killed him. As it was..."

"You saved his life. Maybe he'll let you keep training Dan, helping at the school, even."

"Maybe – I'll get everything except you."

"I wanted to tell you. I didn't know how."

He shook his head. "I know. None of this is your fault."

She turned away, it was too much. She wasn't strong enough to say goodbye. Hands on the edge of the bench, she looked out the window at the path up to the school, the stables, the tress.

He stood behind her, took hold of her shoulders. "Nothing's going to be the same."

She turned, look up at him. "He's right about one thing – I shouldn't care for you the way I do."

He tore his eyes from hers. The severing hurt. He held her shoulders tight, and touched his head to hers – he might have kissed her hair, she couldn't be certain.

At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Neil moved away from her.

"Neil?" Alice entered the room. "He's asleep. Christy – you've heard I presume."

She nodded.

"How serious is it Neil?" Alice asked.

"He should be fine – he shouldn't be traipsing around mountains, and a little less stress wouldn't hurt – but from what I can tell he'll live to do more," he shook his head, not finishing the sentence.

"Thank you Neil."

"What's a hippocratic oath for? He needs to stay put for atleast a week, and then if he must travel, fine, but he shouldn't be walking far. He'll tire easily, but I don't imagine that's likely to stop him."

"No. I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"And I'll be by the day after that."

Christy excused herself. So, that wasn't to be goodbye. She would see him again – probably more than once, given the extension of her stay to accommodate Ferrand's health. This would be dragged out, slowly and painfully.

* * *

><p>School was still to end on Friday. Christy had suggested a farewell party might be fun, but none of them were in the mood for music and dancing. John played a tune, but gave it up pretty quick.<p>

"It aint fair, Miz Christy." Little Burl reached out for her hand. "I prayed you would stay but it cain't have worked. Maybe you could stay at our house – or the Spencers. Mrs Spencer's your best friend, 'n all."

"Thank you, Burl, but sometimes God doesn't answer our prayers the way we want him to. We have to try to trust him anyway."

"But you said he loved us – surely he wants us to be happy. We is happiest with you here, teacher. Aint you happy here, teacher?"

"I am Burl. I want to stay, but I can't. I want to show you something." She took the bible from the front desk and knelt down beside Burl's desk, opening it to Romans. "What does that say?"

"we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."

"Do you know what that means?"

"It'll be okay in the end, I reckon – but it's right hard to believe that sometimes."

"It is, Burl, but that's why we have faith." She looked up at the children – all watching and listening. Behind them she saw Doctor Ferrand at the door, watching. Miss Alice and Doctor MacNeil flanked him – all eyes on Christy.

She stood up, summoning courage. "Alright children, it's time to go home now."

They dragged themselves from their seats and took their time leaving, half of them pausing to say goodbye, to say they'd miss her.

Mountie waited around till last. Christy crouched down to be embraced by the little girl.

"I'm glad you waited behind, Mountie. There's something I wanted to tell you."

Mountie clung to her silently.

"Do you remember that day you spoke for the first time."

"When you sewed on my buttons?"

Christy nodded then realised Mountie couldn't see her face – Mounties face was burried in Christy's shoulder. "Yes, that day. I was about to leave Cutter Gap then. I missed my home in Ashville and I thought I didn't fit in here, I couldn't help anyone. I was going to give up and go home." Christy pulled back so that she could see Mountie's face, "I had given up – and then you said 'buttons'. I stayed here because of you, Mountie."

"Really?"

Christy nodded.

"But it don't make no difference now."

"We've had two wonderful years, Mountie. We can't lose that."

Mountie hugged her again. "I'm going to miss you, teacher."

"I'm going to miss you too, Mountie."

Christy stood as Mountie ran to catch up with her brother and sister who were waiting down the slope from the school. She watched Mountie, ignoring Ferrand, Alice and Neil, all still standing at the back. Ferrand had moved toward Alice to make way for the departing children. Christy looked at them now. Neil's head was bowed; she couldn't see his expression. Alice was looking at Ferrand.

He stepped forward. "I believe I have misjudged you, again. Will you forgive me, Miss Huddleston?"

Christy was stunned, "Of course. But, does this mean...?"

"You can stay." He turned to leave.

Alice had clapped her hands together and brought them to her smiling lips. She caught up to Ferrand and they walked away..

Christy looked to Neil. He was grinning. After several moments just standing there, smiling, he took the half dozen steps toward her.

She found herself whipped up in an embrace, lifted off her feet momentarily. He held her tight against his chest. She put her arms around him, indulged in this easy, natural expression of joy.

"I'd given up." She admitted.

He loosened his hold on her, stepping back so he only held her arms lightly, "I don't believe it."

"What?"

"I prayed for this."

She smiled.

"There's a risk that my praying may have been taken as insincere, or even as an affront, which, if there's a vengeful God, may have made matters worse."[1]

"It didn't. So there's a clue."

He raised his eyebrows, still smiling. "So, you have school on Monday after all."

She covered her grin with her hand, the tears she'd struggled to keep at bay in front of the children were threatening. She shook her head and blinked – the nightmare was over. She could stay – no reason to cry now. She turned away from him, leaned on her desk. "How will the children know?"

"You know how word gets around this place."

"No, actually, I don't know _how_ – but I know it does."

He chuckled and she turned to face him again. He was still grinning. "If there weren't a man recovering from heart attack, I'd suggest a party."

"How about a walk? No. That's probably unwise." She shook her head. "When did things get so complicated? Don't answer that." She closed the books on her desk, picked up her planning book and bible, and walked toward the door.

"Party or no, I can't tell you how relieved I am." He said.

"I'm not sure it's sunk in." They walked toward the mission in silence, letting it sink in.

Neil grabbed her hand as they parted ways – he to the stables and she to the house. The brief squeeze to her fingers left them tingling. He just as soon let go, but the imprint remained. He didn't look back and she marched on, up to her room, to unpack.

* * *

><p>[1] From The West Wing, Season 5, Episode 3: <em>Jefferson Lives<em>. (Debbie Fiderer says this to Abigail Bartlett.)


	6. The stuff that dreams are made of

Neil was right, of course, the children knew school was back on, but they didn't all show up. Christy had incorporated her new student-teachers and some of their lesson ideas into a new program. It gave her more time to work with the older students one-on-one, while they gained skills to teach the younger ones. It was good in theory – but on Monday a handful of students didn't show up and when she asked about it there was dead quiet. On Tuesday a few more were absent and by Thursday more than half the class were MIA. Ferrand had left earlier in the day for El Pano, on horseback, accompanied by David.

"Is it possible," she approached Miss Alice that evening, "that I gained Doctor Ferrand's trust just in time to keep my job, but too late for the cove – that word got out _why_ I was leaving?"

"It's entirely possible."

Christy sighed. "I still have the Spencers, of course, and the McHones. But I haven't seen the Holt's since Monday and today the O'Teale's were absent." She shook her head. "Maybe we can just wait it out. People will find something new to gossip about and with nothing to stoke the fires maybe this little rumour will just burn out."

Alice smiled at her protege.

"What is it?"

"Thou art wise beyond thine years."

"I don't know about that – optimistic, naïve, impetuous."

Alice laughed.

"Well, those might be someone else's words."

"One guess who."

"He's not entirely wrong. Grudges don't evapourate with the dew and they're formed quickly."

"Thou art correct, but as there is nothing thee can either say, or do, to fix this, thee will simply have to hand thy burden to thy heavenly Father."

Christy nodded. "The children asked about their favourite science teacher today – it seems such a shame, but I suppose having him back would only make things worse."

"Perhaps. His sudden absence could also be construed as evidence that there is something to hide."

"I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Consider it, pray about it, and we wil speak again on my return from Cataleechie."

"I will."

* * *

><p>She hadn't lost any more students on Friday but the O'Teale's absence bothered her more than most and as soon as school was out she went to visit them. Swannie acted like nothing was unusual.<p>

"It's right nice of you to visit Miz Christy."

"Thank you, I was just wondering, are Becky and Mountie well?"

"Feeling a bit under the weather. They be good as gold come Monday, don't you worry."

"Oh, alright. Orter Ball and Smith too? We missed them as well."

"Had to help their paw with the hunt."

"Mr O'Teale is home?"

"He's out with the boys now, but they'll be home real soon. Maybe you should be going now, Miz Christy."

Christy didn't buy it, but with Swannie being so polite and friendly, it seemed foolish to accuse her of keeping her children out of school. Nathan O'Teale was not known for his tender heart and gentle hands, nor was he usually around for more than a few days. She hoped the girls really were okay. Doctor MacNeil's place was on her way home so she popped in.

"Neil?" She called out, knocking at the door. She hadn't been here in some time.

"Christy," he replied, from half way up a ladder, around the side of the cabin. She walked to the end of the porch and leaned over the railing to see him. "Just doing some repairs," he pointed to a patch of rotten boards. "Before winter sets in."

"Don't stop on my account." She smiled and he returned to his work. "I was coming by – just stopped in at the O'Teale's. The children have been out of school since yesterday and I thought you might want to check in on them."

"Nathan's back."

"So I heard."

"It'll just be he's keeping them home – you know what he's like. But I'll stop by, say I want to check Becky's eyes." He grinned at her, "Can't have you fretting over nothing."

"Thank you, Doctor."

He pulled off the loose board and she held out her hands to take it.

"Thank you. You don't mind? Otherwise I'm up and down this ladder a dozen times."

"I don't mind. What do you need?" They worked together till the boards were replaced, both losing track of time in the easy company.

"I'd better be going." Christy realised it was later than she'd meant to stay out.

"It'll be dark soon. I'll take you."

"No, you'd better not."

"I thought Ferrand had gone."

"He has, but..."

He looked at her as if he could read her mind. "The O'Teale's weren't the only children out of school this week, were they?"

She shook her head.

He slammed his hand down on the banister, then took a deep breath. "It's not worth risking your safety – I'm taking you back home."

She gave in, lacking the will to fight him, and touched by his concern for her safety. The excuse to be close to him was all too tempting, but she knew they must be careful.

The mission house windows were alight in the deeping dusk, and music wafted from the parlour.

"Perhaps I should leave you here." Neil slowed Charlie down still aways off from the house.

"Actually, I was thinking you should come in. We have nothing to hide – we should act like it."

He loosed the reigns and Charlie sped up again. "That's an interesting idea."

"Miss Alice can take the credit for that one. She even suggested you might return to the school."

"Is that right?"

They dismounted and headed inside. The sight before them was quite the surprise – Daniel Scott and David Grantland dancing together! And behind the piano – Cecile Carver, Daniel's fiance. She stopped playing on their entry. Christy rushed in, "Oh Cecile!" they embraced like old friends, "When did you arrive?"

"This afternoon. I met Miss Alice in El Pano and she brought me back before leaving for Cataleechie."

"Daniel, you never mentioned..."

"I didn't know."

"It was a surprise." Cecile grinned.

Dan took her hand, "Doctor MacNeil, may I introduce my fiance, Cecile Carver."

"A pleasure to meet you." he held out his hand and she shook it.

"And a pleasure to meet you, Doctor. Dan writes much of your work, and I must offer my thanks, for helping him follow his dream."

"That's quite alright. It's been an honour, and we've only just begun."

"We were having ourselves a little party," Daniel spun Cecile and pulled her into his arms, dancing a few steps, despite the lack of music.

"You didn't spin me like that." David jested and held out his hand to Christy.

She laughed and took it, "But there's no music."

"I'll try a tune." Neil sat down to the piano.

"I didn't know you could play." Christy danced with David but looked at Neil.

"Don't get your hopes up," he began clumsily fingering out a tune. "A friend at college had one – taught me one song. Let me see if I can remember it."

It was a silly little song but he played it over and over until he stopped making mistakes. Ruby Mae brought in some supper and they ate between animated conversations.

"Aren't you glad I brought you home?" Neil sat beside Christy on the piano stool later in the evening. "Who'd have played for you to dance?"

She turned to him and smiled. "Ever play a duet?"

He shook his head.

She played a little tune for him to copy. When he got it wrong she took his hand and put his fingers on the right keys.

"Try again."

He made the same mistake again.

She laughed and showed him the tune over.

Eventually he got it right and then she played the other part. The next milestone was to get it in time, with no mistakes.

David watched them briefly, unnoticed, from the door, then went to bed. She was so happy with Neil, there was no denying it. The doctor could offer her nothing, but it didn't seem to make any difference. For the first time, he hoped there would be some way for them to be together. Finally, he was getting over her, or perhaps just accepting that he would have to, that he would get over her eventually.

It was perfect until the last note – Neil fumbled it, corrected it too late. She hadn't laughed so much in a long time. Her sides ached when she stood. "We'll have to keep practicing if we're ever going to get it right – and that's about the simplest song in the world."

"I'm a lost cause." Neil stood and faced her.

"No you're not. You know two whole songs."

"One and a half."

"Alright."

His eyes grew more intense, looking at her. They'd lost track of time. Again. The house was quiet now; everyone else was in bed, asleep probably. He brushed her cheek and kissed her as if she might vanish like a bubble at his touch. "Just pretend," he whispered, "that this is a dream."

She knew he was going to leave then, she reached out to stop him, stood on her tip toes and kissed him again, then fell back, letting him go.

He stood there stunned. "It is a dream, isn't it."

She shook her head. "Goodnight, Neil."

He nodded once and left.

* * *

><p>Cecile's arrival was top news that week. The O'Teale's weren't at school on Monday, but they came on Tuesday. Miss Alice returned from Cataleechie to find Cecile teaching music to a small, but growing class.<p>

"Oh, it is good to be home," Alice looked down the dinner table at the smiling faces of her friends. David said the grace and they tucked in to a meal so delicious, it was barely recognisable as possum. Ruby Mae's cooking was improving.

Later, alone in a room full of people, Christy sidled up to Alice, "I've thought about what you said."

"Remind me."

"Inviting Doctor MacNeil back to teach."

"Oh, yes?"

"I think so, yes. As long as Doctor Ferrand would not oppose, I think it'd be a fine idea and especially important for the older ones – my knowledge is so limited in some areas."

Alice smiled. "Good. With Miss Carver here I'd venture a guess that there are fewer tongues wagging about other people."

"I suspect you're right."

They hoped to finish Dan's cabin that Saturday, even with only the small dedicated crowd that was expected. Christy was surprised to find more people than ever before.

"They're curious." Neil murmered into her ear. He must have seen her expression, understood her silent question. He stood close behind her, she could feel the warmth of his body, but only for a moment. He moved on, no doubt wary of fueling the gossip. Wise, but no less than kisses did seem like a dream – the kind you wake from, and no amount of going back to sleep will every take you back to the same dream.

Cecile was beautiful and gracious. A cove-person's wary greeting was received and returned with warmth. She didn't show fear, if it was there, and she didn't push them. The men worked on the cabin, for the most part as if it were any other working.

The meal was plentiful and delicious, and the larger crowd made this working more festive than the previous ones. Jeb and John made some music, people started dancing. Christy danced with David when he asked, then with Dan Scott, and David again. She sat out to rest and catch her breath. Neil wasn't in sight. She walked around the dancing, watching, an eye out for Neil.

He was working – taking the smaller branches off a felled tree, away from the crowd. She walked over to him. "You're missing the party."

"I'm here to work, not dance."

"I thought you liked dancing."

"Sure."

"You have to rest. Where's the fire?"

He stopped, stood up straight and stretched out his back and arms.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine, Christy. Go back to David." She must have looked hurt because he immediately apologised. "There's no reason for you not to dance with him, I'd just rather not watch."

"Alright."

"I know I asked you not to marry him, but you shouldn't put your life on hold – not for me. I want you to be happy."

"My life's not on hold – it's going on just the same as before. I am happy."

He kept on working.

"I'd like to dance with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

She sighed, nodded, understanding. It still hurt, no matter how much sense it made. She turned and walked away, back to the party.

As she reached the crowd the sound of hoof-beats, whistling and yelling was heard. The music stopped, dancers turned. A gun fired two shots and then five men on horses, waving guns, came into view. Bird's Eye led the band, wild-eyed and sitting tall on his mount, sure of himself, bent on action, on violence.

"This here party's just about to get started." He laughed, aiming his gun at Daniel Scott.

Christy saw Neil out of the corner of her eye, walking up the hill toward her.

"We got more'n enough o' your kind on this ere mountain. If you aint gonna leave of your own accord I aim to make ye."

Miss Alice stepped forward, unarmed. "Mr Taylor, this here is mission property. You are trespassing." She stood in front of Daniel, who had Cecile behind him.

"Might be your place now, but my people been on this here mountain a mite longer than anyone can remember so I say these folks aren't welcome, and neither's those who brought 'em here."

"If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us _all_?" Miss Alice began, bringing her hands together.

Christy watched her, then Bird's Eye. He was going to shoot. "No!" She leapt at Miss Alice, adrenaline pumping through her veins. They hit the ground in chaos.

"I warned ye." Bird's Eye's voice had lost some of it's boldness.

Christy's chest burned. She was on top of Miss Alice. She tried to get up. She had no strength in her arms. She couldn't breath. She was lying on the ground, Miss Alice knelt beside her.


	7. The stuff of nightmares

Miss Alice stepped forward, unarmed. "Mr Taylor, this here is mission property. You are trespassing." She stood in front of Daniel, who had pushed Cecile behind him.

"Might be your place now, but my people been on this here mountain a mite longer than anyone can remember so I say these folks aren't welcome, and neither's those who brought 'em here."

"If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us _all_?" Miss Alice began, bringing her hands together.

Christy watched her, then Bird's Eye. He was going to shoot. "No!" She leapt at Miss Alice, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She and Alice hit the ground in chaos.

"I warned ye." Bird's Eye's voice had lost some of it's boldness.

Christy's chest burned. She was on top of Miss Alice. She tried to get up. She had no strength in her arms. She couldn't breath. She was lying on the ground, Miss Alice knelt beside her.

"Get out of the way!" Neil bellowed. Somebody stumbled, pushed aside, scuffing dirt over her face. Neil fell to his knees and she saw his face. She saw the switch – for a moment he was wild eyed like Bird's Eye had been, but panicked, horrified; a moment later he was Doctor MacNeil, barking orders, rolling her over to check for an exit wound.

Bright patches spun in her eyes.

"Stay with me, Christy." He rolled her onto her back.

She tried to speak but he told her not to. He tore her shirt.

"Doctor," Miss Alice's voice was calm, certain, "We need to move her inside."

"Yes," he tore fabric from somewhere – not her clothes as far as she could tell, but she wasn't all that aware of her surroundings. He pressed the wad of cloth to the wound. It burned and ached; she cried out. "I'm sorry, I have to stop the bleeding. Someone get my bag. Alright, lift her slowly."

She was lifted from the ground. Daniel Scott's cabin was dark and smelled like wood and iron – or maybe the iron was from the blood. She could taste it and yet her mouth felt dry. She must be breathing but it felt like someone was standing on her chest.

She groaned when they put her down, closed her eyes.

"Stay with me, Christy."

She tried to open her eyes. They were so heavy.

"Come on," he touched her face, "you gotta try and stay awake."

"So tired." her voice was raspy and weak, it didn't sound like her.

"I know. It's cause you've lost a bit of blood. There's a bullet in your chest, a hole in your lung, and a broken rib. I'm going to take out the bullet, but I don't have anything for the pain. I don't want to wait for someone to ride to my cabin."

She nodded. "I trust you."

"It's going to hurt."

"Already does." Talking was so hard.

"Alright. I'm going to give you something to bite on."

She passed out from the pain almost as soon as he started. The last thing she saw was his tortured expression.

* * *

><p>She came to in warm light. She turned to see where she was – a dark cabin with a fire and little else in it. There were candles, and people discussing something of which she could make little sense.<p>

One of the people turned to face her, Miss Alice.

Christy smiled at her.

"How do you feel?" Alice rushed over.

Neil and Dan turned around and followed her. Both assessed with their eyes. Alice turned and let Neil take centre place.

"Water?" Christy asked, mouth feeling dry as paper.

"I don't want to move you. Can you suck water from a cloth?" Neil watched her face like a hawk. She nodded.

Alice held a wet clean rag to her mouth and she drank from it.

"Not too much. I don't want to risk you vomiting."

She nodded, mouth just wet but she felt much better for it. "Thank you."

He shook his head, "Don't."

"I'm going to be okay?"

"It'll be a miracle if there's no infection."

"You're going to be just fine." Alice glared at him.

"What happened?" Christy wheezed, "Is everyone else okay?"

Neil turned away but Dan answered her, "We're all alright. Cecile has gone back to the Mission with David and everyone's gone home."

"Bird's Eye?"

"He took off."

"I'm sorry." Christy took Dan's hand.

"There ain't nothing you ever need to apologise for, Christy." He squeezed her hand then let it go. "I'll send someone to the mission with a message." He left the room.

Alice pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. "We're going to stay the night here, so just relax. How's the pain? I can get you something for it."

"It feels heavy – my chest." She turned to Neil. He looked really worried. "It's not that bad, Neil."

He moved closer again. "I need you to tell me exactly how you feel, Christy. I can't help you unless you're totally honest."

"My chest hurts. I was shot."

He cracked a smile. "I know that much."

"The pain's not too much right now. I'll tell you when I want something. I promise."

"Thank you. You should try to sleep. I'll be right back." He left the cabin with a significant look at Alice, who nodded slightly.

Christy looked at Alice's grim expression. "I'm going to be alright."

Alice took her hand, "My dear girl."

"I can't believe Bird's Eye would shoot you."

"And thee took the bullet."

"I was just trying to get you out of the way."

She lifted Christy's hand to her lips, held in both her own. "You should sleep."

Christy nodded, closing her eyes. "This isn't your fault." She squeezed her hand.

* * *

><p>When she woke again it was Neil at her bedside. He had rested his head on his arm, on the bed beside her arm. She pushed her fingers into his messy hair. He lifted his head and she ran her fingers around to his cheek.<p>

"You can't sleep here."

"I was." He contradicted, "How do you feel?"

"A bit sore."

"Where?"

"My chest, and I have a headache."

"You'll be a bit dehydrated." He got up and retrieved a bottle. "I'll lift your head. Try to relax." He gave her some medicine, then water. "How's that?"

"Good. Better. Thank you."

He sat down again. "Do you think you could go back to sleep?"

"Maybe. I feel awake now."

"I need to check your dressing but I'll wait for the laudanum to take effect."

She nodded and took his hand again. "I'm okay, Neil."

"Is that right? Here I was thinking I was the doctor."

She sighed. He was impossible, a perfectionist; he'd never forgive himself if he didn't do everything just right and she knew the stakes were only higher with her as his patient. "I didn't stay awake very long, did I?"

"You did fine. It was better that you passed out. It was killing me, hurting you like that."

"I know. It went okay though, didn't it? It must have – I'm awake."

"The surgery went fine, yes. I removed the bullet, sutured your lung," he sighed, "This should never have happened."

"At least it wasn't someone else – it'd be the beginning of another fued."

"You, on the other hand, will be offering hospitality to Bird's Eye next time he's in a bad patch."

She reached out and touched his cheek. "You need to sleep."

"I will when you do."

She traced the lines on his forehead with her fingers, then moved onto the lines around his eyes and mouth. "You are a good doctor. I'm in good hands."

"We're still in a half-finished mountain cabin, Christy. You didn't even have pain-killers." He took hold of her hand in both of his.

"At least I do now."

"I should check that wound. I'll get Alice."

She held on tight tolet?"

He stopped, laughed. "Are you serious?"

She nodded.

"You are... yes of course." He shook his head.

She was glad to see him smiling, shaking off the darkness that had clouded his eyes since she'd woken. It made her feel better to see him smile.

Alice returned and helped Neil to remove the dressing.

"No sign of infection." His voice was full of relief.

He applied iodine. It stung but Christy tried not to react, tried to stay completely still.

Silently, they bandaged her up again.

"I'll stay for a while," Alice took the bottle of iodine and the dirty bandages away. "You rest, Neil. I'll call you if anything changes."

He hesitated, then nodded.

"He's angry, isn't he?" Christy asked once he'd left them.

"Of course."

"Do you think he'll sleep?"

"Don't worry about Neil. You just need to rest and get well. Is there anything you want?"

"Maybe you could read to me. I'll try to sleep, but I want to hear your voice."

"Of course." Alice went to her bag and retrieved a bible. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul." She held Christy's hand, "Shut your eyes. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness."

* * *

><p>She woke in the morning, alone. Gently, she lifted herself up a little, her weight on her elbows. Her skirt was dirty, her shirt torn and bloody, the bandages wrapped around her, over the top, were clean. She must be in Dan's cabin – of course; it made sense. The others would be in the other room – still asleep maybe. She lay back. Neil would be furious if she moved at all. She smiled at the thought. He was going to be fastidious and over-protective. She should try to be a good patient – for his sake at least.<p>

The pain was getting bad again. She felt her stomach, working her hands upward until she felt the edge of the bruise. She fingered around it, gently and carefully figuring out where she was wounded, where it was worst. It seemed to be just above her right breast. She blushed, realizing Neil would have seen most of her chest, then reminded herself that modesty wasn't as important as her life.

"What's wrong?" Neil must have been watching her. He crossed the room in a moment.

"Nothing's wrong."

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, Neil. Did you sleep?"

"Yes. How do you feel?"

"A bit sore. Am I going home today?"

"Back to the mission? I hope we can move you today. We'll wait till the ground's dried off a bit. You'll be strapped to a stretcher and carried."

"Is that really nec-"

"Please, Christy. Let me do the best thing for you. Just this once, do what I say."

"Okay."

He looked at her, surprised at how quickly she'd conceded.

"I'll do what you say."

"Thank you." He put his arm underneath her neck, lifting her gently. He held the bottle to her lips and tipped it back. The taste was awful and she coughed a little. The cough was like a punch to her chest.

He laid her back down, brushed the hair back from her face.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "That stuff's awful."

"You are so brave."

"I'm just trying to make you feel better." She coughed again, grimacing, arching a little, till it hurt.

He watched her, concern etched into his features, and something else she couldn't put a name to. "Are you okay?"

"Water?"

He helped her drink.

Alice came in with a plate of food – left overs from the previous day's party. "How is thee feeling?"

"Alright, sort of."

"Very convincing, Miss Huddleston. Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"Well, that's a good sign." Neil looked over the food and picked out the most boring thing on the plate. "Alright, let's sit you up. Really slow, mind, you might feel dizzy."

She felt better sitting. "It's easier to breath upright." She took the bread Neil offered and tore a piece off.

"You didn't tell me you were having trouble breathing."

"It's not that bad."

He glared at her.

"You told me yesterday that you sutured my lung – I'm not expecting to feel the same as every other day."

"You need to tell me things like that."

She resisted the urge to tell him her chest hurt – the expression on his face warned her not to sass him. "I'm a bit wheezy. It's better now – not perfect, but better."

He put his stethoscope in his ears, sat beside her, and put the head against her back.

She took his free hand.

He sighed, removed the earpieces, letting the stethoscope hang from his neck. "It's to be expected. You're right – a little shortness of breath is normal after what you've been through. I just want to be careful."

"I know." She held tight to his hand so he wouldn't get up.

"You should eat," Alice held out the plate and Neil took a slice of pie.

They changed her dressings and then she slept, dosed up to keep the pain at bay. When she woke again it was bright and sunny outside, making the cabin seem dark by comparison. Alice was stoking the fire and Neil was outside talking to someone – she couldn't be certain who.

"Are we going home soon?"

Alice turned, smiled, nodded. "As soon as they've got your stretcher ready. How do you feel?"

"Heavy. Not too sore. Would it be better while we're moving for me to feel the pain? At least then I can tell you if anything gets worse."

"I'll talk to Neil. Just rest."

She lay back. Her whole body ached and she felt so weak, but she was restless, bored. She tried to see out the window but the light was so bright it hurt her eyes. She closed them but didn't sleep.

* * *

><p>A gentle hand on her forehead alerted her to his presence.<p>

She smiled up at him.

"How are you feeling?" Neil asked.

"Ready to go home."

They helped her onto the stretcher, which had been constructed overnight, from branches, twine, and a blanket. She was strapped around her hips and knees. A group of the men helped Alice and Neil carry her. Alice would not accept their protestations that she shouldn't help.

The ride was bumpy. She held onto the branches at her sides, tried to relax and follow Neil's instructions. He watched her closely, miraculously only fumbling his footing on the trail a couple of times. It wasn't far but they went slowly. She was exhausted and relieved to sink back into her own bed.

Alice helped her to wash, changed her clothes and brushed out her hair. Neil returned to check the dressing. No change. He left again, barely speaking more than absolutely necessary.

Alice saw Christy's expression, "He's tired, and concerned about you, amongst other things. Give him time."

Christy nodded. "He carries the weight of the world – or tries to."

"Yes." Alice stayed with her, despite her protestations that she was fine, and she slept till evening.


	8. Bedside manners

She woke to the smell of fried chicken and realized how hungry she was.

There was a plate of food on her bedside table, and Neil was sitting in the chair beyond, reading a book.

"Is that for me?"

He put the book down and smiled at her. "If you want it."

"Smells delicious." She tried to sit up and he jumped up to help.

"You're going to need a little help."

She let him lift her, pack pillows around her, lower her back down.

"How's that?"

"Good."

He sat down on the side of the bed and put the tray in front of her.

"Did you eat already?" She asked, picking up a fork and digging in.

He nodded.

"What were you reading?"

"Medical journal."

"Anything in particular?"

"Chest wounds, punctured lungs, broken ribs..." He watched her eat, "Maybe I'm being over-cautious. You seem to be recovering rather well."

"You're afraid of infection. When does that usually show up?"

"Any time – earlier. The risk gets less and less." He smiled. "If I can just keep you sitting still."

She laughed. It hurt.

He looked so worried.

"I'll have to learn all new limits. No coughing, laughing. I'm not looking forward to sneezing."

"Hopefully you won't need to."

"I don't really want to breath too deeply."

"It hurts?"

She nodded. "But I'm lucky really, right? No permanent damage?"

"Lucky?" he sighed, stood up and turned away. "How do you do it? School's been boycotted how many times now? You've given up so much to be here, to help these people that just seem to hurt you. Why do you stay?"

"For the same reason you do."

"No – these are my people. This is where I come from – you..."

"I choose to be here, just like you."

"Nothing here is worth risking your life."

"No one planned this, Neil. It was an accident."

"It was a lynching. You just happened to get in the way."

"And I'm alive. I'm going to be just fine. I know you're angry but at some point you're going to have to let it go."

"It's only been a day. I don't have to do anything of the sort."

"Holding onto it only hurts you." She sighed, then murmured, "and me."

He turned to face her.

"Come and sit with me." she patted the spot on the bed that he'd vacated.

After a moment's hesitation he sat. "I can't just forgive them – and I don't see how you can."

"I know." She took his hand. "It doesn't make sense."

"It's God?" He turned on her, then looked away, "I'm sorry. I... I'm tired."

She kept on eating in silence, till a knock came at the door.

"Come in."

David poked his head around the door then entered, "Doctor, Christy – I'm so glad to see you awake and sitting up. We were so scared. I thought... We all thought, feared... but you're okay. Thank God for Doctor MacNeil."

"I do." Christy smiled at Neil.

"I'll leave you two to..." Neil left the room and David sat in the chair.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better – not great, but, well, you can imagine."

"I suppose – though that was nothing compared to this. Sounds like you're lucky to be alive, or blessed or something. I've never seen MacNeil like that."

"What happened? I passed out and I don't remember much even before that."

He told her what had happened, how people had reacted, that the mob had ridden off and no one had seen or heard from them, that the cove people had held vigil most of the night, and continued their vigil at church in the morning.

"All this fuss over me."

He smiled, that great, soft smile that had once tempted her to marry him. "You're the only one who's surprised by that."

"I'm just so glad no one else got hurt. Oh, has anyone phoned my parents?"

"They're on their way first thing in the morning."

She nodded, glad of it. She longed to see them. At least some good would come of this accident. It had been far too long since she'd seen her family. "They'll be so worried."

"Doctor MacNeil spoke to them on the telephone."

"Great – they'll be even more worried."

"No, he was quite reassuring I think."

"He seems so... I don't know."

"He has been more than usually surly, but he kept it under wraps for your family's sake."

"Good."

"You know why, don't you."

"He's worried about me, and angry that it happened. I know."

David nodded, unconvinced. "Well, I'm relieved to see you so much like normal – chatty and happy, worried about everyone else without a thought for yourself, and looking as beautiful as ever, if you don't mind me saying so."

She took his hand, "Thank you, David."

He put his other hand over hers and looked at her a little indulgently, his blatant adoration tinged with sadness. "Well, I should be going. Are you up to visitors? There's quite the queue."

She nodded, then yawned, which hurt.

"Maybe not."

"Maybe not." She agreed.

"I can take this," he touched the dinner tray, "if you're finished."

"Thank you.

He left her and she lay back. There were too many pillows behind her to lie down. She tried to reach around to remove them but her arms weren't cooperating – they were weak, aching and pulling at her chest painfully. She gave up, lay back, rested her eyes.

She was dozing when Alice and Neil came in, not awake enough to make the decision to wake up. Plus, they were talking, she didn't want to interrupt.

"None of this is your fault, Neil." Alice's voice was calm and rational, soft but infuriating to the recipient of her sentiment.

"It's Bird's Eye Taylor's fault, and..." he rifled off a list of names, "How can He let this happen?"

"Who, Neil?"

"Your God!"

Silence.

"God didn't make Bird's Eye mean and full of hate." Alice eventually spoke. "Perhaps Christy tried to protect me because of... I don't know. But I do know one part God definitely had in all this – you were there, you could fix her."

It took a while for him to answer and when he did his voice was full of emotion. "She once told me He gave me the gift." He sighed.

"You don't believe her."

"I didn't then – but since she believed in me, that was enough – that gave me the courage to operate on Becky O'Teale."

"Your skills as a doctor may not be the only gift He's given." Eventually, Alice spoke again. "Get some sleep, Neil. I'll stay here."

"I won't sleep."

"Try."

Christy heard the door close.

Alice stood over her and she opened her eyes.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Can we move these pillows?"

Once she was lying down she slept. When she woke she was cold and sore. Alice was asleep in the chair. She didn't want to wake her. The night passed so slowly. God, it hurt. She knew Neil would want her to ask for something but she felt too weak to wake herself up properly, even to speak. It was easy to just doze in and out.

When she was in she prayed, _God stop the pain, make me sleep, make me warm, stop the pain, wake Miss Alice, let me sleep._ When she was out she was blissfully unaware of everything – the pain, the cold, Neil's foul mood, the violence and hatred that ran so deep in some of the mountain people, what would happen to Lundy when Bird's Eye went to jail? When she was in, her mind ran in circles around all these worries. It was dizzying.


	9. which passeth all knowledge

Alice woke before dawn; the habit of a lifetime aided by an uncomfortable sleeping position. She rubbed her eyes, stood and stretched, drank a little water, then looked at Christy, sleeping. It was the best thing for her – rest would help her to heal. The girl was willful and energetic; keeping her in bed was going to be challenge enough.

Christy groaned in her sleep, eyes half open. Alice noticed how she pulled the blankets tight around her. She put a gentle hand to her forehead – too hot. She pulled down the blankets – Christy's feeble grip having no effect. She was soaking wet.

Alice got up and threw open the door, "Neil!" She looked back in then called again.

Hearing his footsteps she returned to Christy's side. "Christy, I'm just going to take your temperature."

He stumbled on the steps but still made record time.

"She's running a fever." Alice had the thermometer in Christy's mouth.

"This is what I was afraid of." He wrung out a wet cloth and put it to her forehead, "Christy?"

She struggled to open her eyes and speak, just managing his name.

"We need to take a look at this wound."

"I'm cold." She mumbled.

"I know, Lass, but you won't be for long."

"A hundred and three."

"You have an infection, Christy. We're going to take off the dressing. You need to lie still."

She shivered but nodded.

They worked quickly, wordlessly, a practiced team.

His voice was calming even when his words weren't, "This will hurt but it will kill the germs." He warned.

She cried out, the disinfectant burning.

"I know." Neil said repeatedly, hands moving rapidly over her chest, recovering the wound with fresh bandages, wrapping them tight despite her protestations. "I'm sorry, I know it hurts. I'm almost done. There we go."

She shivered and cried. He washed his hands then returned to her side, taking her hand. "You're going to be okay."

She smiled weakly, "Now you're optimistic?"

He smiled, lifted her hand to his lips. "You have a will of iron. You can beat this thing."

"So... cold." She was shivering violently now. "Why is it?"

He explained it to her, and then explained again in layman's terms.

True to his word, she was hot only a few minutes later.

Alice washed her down with cold cloths – her face and arms, her neck. Then she started shivering again. She was tired and sore, running low on emotional as well as physical resources.

"I've had as much sleep as I'm going to get, Alice. You should rest now." Neil caught Alice yawning.

She looked at Christy, brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead, then left.

"Neil?" Christy held his hand tight.

"Yes?"

"My chest hurts."

"You want some more laudanum?"

She nodded. "I just want to sleep. Feels better – don't feel anything."

"You should sleep if you can. I'm staying close by in case your fever spikes. I might wake you up occasionally, but go ahead and sleep if you can. This will help." He lifted her slightly, held a spoon of medicine to her lips and she drank, getting used to the taste now, but still grimacing.

Lowering her, he was so close. Gently, he slipped his arm out from behind her neck. His expression bespoke agony.

She put her hand to his cheek, "You look so sad. I wish I could make you happy."

"You do." He whispered. "You get well and I will be more happy than you know."

"I will." She was getting really sleepy. "I'll make you smile again."

He took her hand in his and sat up.

"Look," she was looking out the window. The sky was pink and orange, fingers of light reaching out from the horizon. "That makes me smile. Look at the mountains."

He got up, letting go of her hand, and went to the window, looking out at the view she treasured, the one that had got her out of bed every cold morning. He looked back at her, now asleep. Inhaling deeply he looked back out at the mountains. His voice came in a murmur, courage failing him,

"If you're real, you've got to make her better. She says you're good. I wish I could believe it." He sighed. "Even if you are vengeful, judging... why her? Take me. Better yet, take Bird's Eye, but spare Christy. I can't... I can't do without her." Silent tears wet his cheeks. He brushed them away angrily. "You want me on my knees? You need me to break first?" He dropped, the pain shooting up his legs was so fitting it was pleasant. "You sick, vindictive... was Margaret a warning shot? Now Christy? Do you know what this girl does – and for you? She gives up everything to come to this forsaken mountain, to teach school. Now this. Are you punishing me? I've sinned. I've committed many sins. Have I displeased you, you feckless thug? Saving lives you let... you let them get hurt and sick. I give up everything to try and save them – for nothing. They just go on shooting at each other. And you just let them. All powerful, God of love and light and grace?" He spat the words from his mouth. [1]

The sun peeked over the horizon, transforming the sky and the mountains, blinding Neil. He leaned away from the window, turned his back on the view and crawled the few feet to Christy's bedside. "You save her, I might believe it." He shook his head. "But you don't want me – I'm not much of a bargaining chip. She's not enough for you? Is anyone enough for you?" He put his head down on the side of the bed. "Please God, please." He repeated it like a mantra, the words soon unintelligible. He lost all track of time.

Christy pushed her hand into his hair, her fingertips pressing into his scalp.

He looked up. The sun was high in the sky. Hours could have passed. His knees ached but he didn't move, just looked at her weary, flushed face.

"Could you read to me?" she asked.

He nodded.

She pointed to the book on her bedside table and he took it, biting back his frustration at the inevitable choice. He opened it at the bookmark and started at the top of the page.

"For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named," He put the book down on the bed, shaking his head then stopping himself, not prepared to discuss any of this with her. He continued, "That he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man; That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, May be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge," He looked at her; had she heard him? No, she hadn't chosen this page. "That ye might be filled with all the fulness of God. Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen." [2]

She took his hand. "It's okay, you can stop."

"I don't mind."

"Yes you do." She smiled. "I just want to hear your voice. You could just talk to me; I'd like that."

He put the book back on the table. "What do you want to talk about?"

She smiled and shivered. "I don't mind."

He stood up, taking the thermometer and wiping it clean. "How about a story?"

"I love your stories."

He smiled, put the thermometer under her tongue and began to weave a tale. She felt cold, he could tell, though she was trying to be brave about it. He leaned over her, telling the story he knew so well, and tucked the blankets around her. The fever was steady and so long as it didn't spike she would be okay, and it would help her body fight the infection. She might as well be as comfortable as she could be. When he'd done everything he could, he sat on the bed beside her.

The story, about a mischievous young boy, made her think, at first, that he was telling her about his own childhood. But then it became a love story and she began to wonder. He finished and smiled at her, waiting for her reaction.

"Who was it?"

"My parents."

"That's a good story." She looked at him tenderly, indulgently . "Who do you look like?"

"I am my father."

"With your mother's love of learning."

He nodded, "But not her patience."

Christy grinned, "I am not patient either."

"No," he agreed, looking cheeky, "But you have other virtues."

She pulled the blankets tighter around her, trying not to shiver violently, trying not to make him worry. "Do I?"

"The courage and devotion I see in you," he touched her face.

"That's the nicest way I ever heard of saying I'm stubborn as a mule."

He laughed, his hand dropping to the bed. "You are that too. Good thing."

"Why? So as I can stand up to you?"

"Well, I was thinking more that it might keep you alive. But, I'll admit to my own stubborn streak."

A knock came at the door and Miss Alice stepped in, pale as a sheet.

"What is it?" Neil asked.

Alice hesitated, begun, paused, then stepped forward holding out a letter. She had another, opened, in her other hand.

Neil opened the letter, still sitting on the bed.

Christy looked from Alice's ashen face to Neil's stony expression. It could only be one of two things.

Neil folded the letter back up, put it in the envelope. "I'm not going."

* * *

><p>[1] Adapted from <em>The West Wing<em>, Season 2, episode 22: _Two Cathedrals._ (The president rages against God in the National Cathedral)

[2] From Ephesians chapter 3, verses 14 onward, in the King James Version of the Bible.


	10. Yet each man kills the thing he loves

A knock came at the door and Miss Alice stepped in, pale as a sheet.

"What is it?" Neil asked.

Alice hesitated, begun, paused, stepped forward holding out a letter. She had another, opened, in her other hand.

Neil opened the letter, still sitting on the bed.

Christy looked from Alice's ashen face to Neil's stony expression. It could only be one of two things.

Neil folded the letter back up, put it in the envelope. "I'm not going."

"There may not be another chance."

"Christy's fighting a post-operative infection. I cannot leave."

Alice inhaled deeply, as if trying to breath in strength. "I will leave this afternoon."

"Of course." Neil nodded, stood up and shoved the letter in his pocket.

Alice left.

Christy waited, saying nothing to Neil's turned back. She leaned back into the pillows, feeling hot again. Her head ached and throbbed. Talking to Neil had been a sweet distraction but now she felt every discomfort. She put her hand to her damp forehead, squeezed her temples.

"What's wrong?"

She opened her eyes wide and smiled, trying to be reassuring. "I'm okay – just hot."

His eyes demanded the complete truth.

"My head aches... and my chest."

He took her temperature again, then gave her another dose of laudanum.

She swallowed it, squinted, then washed it down with water.

Neil took the glass and refilled it.

She watched him. "Are you certain?"

He looked out the window. "There's nothing I can do for Margaret now. It's too late for her – for me."

"You might regret..."

"I have enough regrets – leaving now would only add to them."

"How?"

"If anything happened to you I'd never... but not only that." He sighed, paced, "I have too much of her voice in my head. She haunts me." He stopped, sat down on the side of the bed, but didn't look at Christy. "I can't... I just can't."

She put a hand over his.

"I'm not strong enough."

"She has hurt you over and over. Of course you don't want to be vulnerable again. That doesn't make you weak."

"She's dying. A sense of duty might have made me go. And the ugly truth is, I'm glad of the excuse not to. What kind of man am I, to be glad of that?"

"No one should have to go through what you've been through. I'd tell you not to be so hard on yourself – but I know you better than that."

"I am not innocent in all of this."

"Neither are you solely to blame. Perfection, as Miss Alice so likes to remind me, belongs to God alone. We are human – we make mistakes." She squeezed his hand, "We hurt the people we love." The Laudanum was beginning to take effect.

He sighed. "I think I've forgiven her, and then I find I haven't. How many times?" He stood up. "I want to forget, to be free of her. But how can I wish it?"

"Your feelings are natural. No one could blame you, Neil."

"I manage it." He smiled wryly. "How are you feeling?"

"Talking is distracting – but I feel better. The medicine is working."

"Good. You should rest, not spend your energy trying to help this..."

"It pains me to see you hurt. I cannot simply opt out, nor do I wish to."

He looked at her, the bandages he'd tied, bruises peaking from the edges, her glistening forehead and red cheeks, her big eyes, full of compassion. "Forgive me."

"Forgive what?"

"You've been hurt by this. I've hurt you. I've not meant to."

"That makes all the difference."

"Really?"

She nodded. "You're forgiven."

The words, so little really, made a remarkable difference. He felt lighter. Margaret blamed him, and Alice too, undoubtedly. But Christy had forgiven him. "Thank you."

She smiled and wriggled.

"You're not comfortable."

"Not really, but then I was shot."

"Don't remind me." He helped her to sit and removed the pillows, rearranging them till they were just right. "Do you think you could sleep?"

She nodded, the laudanum having it's full effect now. "I'm glad you're staying. It's selfish of me, but I'm glad you're staying."

"You are the least selfish person I know." He kissed her forehead. "Close your eyes. I'll be right here."

* * *

><p>Once Alice had packed she returned to Christy's room. Neil left them alone, his first break all day.<p>

"I don't know how long I'll be away." Alice clasped her hands together.

"Of course – don't worry about us. I am in good hands and David will have everything in hand."

"I know." She sat down on the side of Christy's bed. "I will still worry about thee." She stroked her cheek. "But I will turn my worries to prayers and trust you to God's care, as well as Neil's."

"I hope... there is hope."

Alice shook her head, "There is hope – but there is also an end. She has pneumonia and tuberculosis." She sighed, "I hope... I hope for an end to suffering, for her, and for us. I hope she will forgive me, and that I can finally, once and for all, forgive her. But maybe that's not how forgiveness works."

Christy took her hand. "You'll be in my prayers. Doctor MacNeil won't let me move for weeks, no doubt. I'll have plenty of time for prayers."

"And you will be in mine." Alice stood and kissed Christy's forehead. "Be well, my dear girl." She left, meeting Neil in he hall outside.

Christy couldn't help but overhear their brief conversation:

"I will send word." Alice said.

"I have to stay."

"I understand – I do. We cannot lose them both."

Silence. "Tell her I'm sorry I wasn't... enough."

A minute later Alice's footsteps on the stairs faded away and Neil came back in, almost composed.

Christy watched him cross to the window. "Are you alright?" She asked.

He nodded. "Rest, Christy."

* * *

><p>She woke again at dusk, in need of another dose of medicine. Neil was asleep in the chair. The bottle was on her bedside table so she carefully poured herself a spoonful, willing her hands to be steady. She washed it down with water and lay back. She was wide awake, and neither hot nor cold. Smiling, she turned her head to watch Neil sleep. He looked so peaceful. It was strange to see him so relaxed. <em>Give him peace, Lord. Somehow, let him find peace.<em>

He stirred and caught her staring at him. Wiping his face, he sat upright. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I'm fine. You need to sleep."

He stood up. "Are you sure you don't want something for the pain?"

"Oh, I... well I didn't want to wake you so I took some already. You looked like you needed the sleep."

"How much did you take?"

"Just one spoonful – the same as you give me. I'm okay, Neil."

He sighed heavily.

"Have you laid down since Saturday?"

"Yes."

"And you slept?"

He looked at her, a smile tugging at his lips said that he'd been caught out. "Not while I was lying down."

She waited for him to explain.

"Don't worry about me." He stood at the sound of horse-hooves falling on hard mud.

"Who is it?"

"I Can't see – but I can guess." He smiled at her. "I can see where you get your determination from."

"My parents?" She grinned.

"I'll be right back." He virtually skipped out the door.

She could hear their muffled questions, the words hidden from her but their tones of voice were clear. As were the foot-falls on the stairs.

Her mother was first through the door.

"Oh, my darling girl! I was so afraid for you. How are you feeling?"

"Better."

Her father stepped through the door, leaning on his cane. "That is the best news I've every heard."

"Daddy." Christy held out her hand and he hobbled to her, grasping her hand with all the force he'd rather have put into an embrace.

Neil followed him into the room, but stood back.

Mrs Huddleston didn't know where to begin. "When we heard – oh – how did you ever end up... no, not now. We're just glad you're alright. Doctor MacNeil, we owe you so much."

"No thanks are necessary."

"Tell us what happened." Mr Huddleston put a quietening hand on his wife's arm.

"Miss Huddleston was trying to protect Alice Henderson, who was trying to protect..." the doctor's voice trailed off, uncertain how Christy's parents would respond to the full story.

"A negro man, Daddy. They were trying to scare him away. It was an accident."

"It was a lynching." Her father saw right through their narrative. "You were there, Doctor?"

"I was – I was further away. But, yes."

"There is nothing anyone could have done. And I'm going to be fine, aren't I Neil?"

"I think so. You need to be careful, Miss Huddleston." He turned to her father. "She has had a post-operative infection."

"The fever's gone." Christy interrupted. "I'm really feeling much better."

Neil looked at her skeptically, knowing how she would want to prove to her parents that she wasn't in imminent danger, that Cutter Gap wasn't all bad. Taking her temperature, he took advantage of her forced silence to fill in some of the story.

"I operated immediately, removed the bullet. She has a fractured rib and the fracture punctured her lung. It sounds worse than it is, but she's been lucky."

"I'b hara goo lactar." Christy tried to speak.

Neil raised his eyebrows at her, silently insisting on her cooperation.

She looked up at him wide-eyed and innocent.

"We moved her back here yesterday and she's been fighting an infection since last night." He removed the thermometer from her mouth. "A fight she seems to have won."

Christy smiled up at him. "I told you."

"Excuse me for being – what was it you said? A goo lactar?"

"You're excused."

Julia Huddleston sighed. "Well, I've never been so relieved in my life to hear you speaking out of turn."

Christy laughed then cringed at the pain laughing caused.

Neil sent her a cautious glance. "There will be pain for several weeks. You're going to need to be very careful. If those stitches pull, or your lung doesn't heal, then infection would be nigh inevitable. You're not going to like it, but you're not going anywhere for a while yet."

She nodded.

"So that's what it takes to stop you in your tracks." Mr Huddleston caressed his daughter's face and kissed her forehead. "How long till we can take her home, doctor?"

"I can't say. But if the infection is really cleared up then perhaps in a week."

"Wait – I don't want to leave." Christy interrupted.

"You need to come home, Christy." Her mother took her hand, "Get well, and rest, then make a decision about the future."

She gritted her teeth and forced a smile. "Tell me all the news from home." She abruptly changed the subject.

Neil bowed out of the room soon after.

After an hour's animated conversation, Christy was beginning to feel weary. Ruby Mae knocked timidly at the door with a tray of food.

"Come in Ruby Mae, you remember my mother and father." Christy smiled at her encouragingly.

"Good evening. I made some supper, if ye'd care to take some. I cen bring up more on trays or would ye come down to the table."

"We can come downstairs," William spoke up, having noticed Christy was getting tired.

Julia stood up, "Will Doctor MacNeil be joining us?"

"He went home – said he'd be back later tonight. Needed some supplies, I reckon. Been here eversince it happened."

Christy took the offered tray of food and drink and smiled at the departing guests, wanting no one to worry about her. Shaking off the thought that she'd be leaving soon, she tucked into her food. She got about half way through it before she gave into the battle against her heavy eyelids, pushed the tray aside and went to sleep.

NB: The title of this chapter comes from Oscar Wilde's poem, _The Ballad of Reading Gaol_.


	11. New Going Places

She woke to the sound of footsteps on the stairs – heavy and familiar. Then she noticed the music coming from downstairs.

Neil entered her room and, on seeing her awake, smiled.

"What is that?" She asked about the music.

"I thought I'd bring my phonograph. I know how you enjoyed it... before."

"I do."

He opened the door wider so the music wafted in. "How are you feeling?"

"Ready for another sip from that magic bottle, but so much better. My head is better. The whole time I was feverish my head just pounded."

"I'm glad you're feeling better, but I was serious before. I don't want to frighten your parents, but I need you to take me seriously," He gave her the medicine, "If you rush your recovery the consequences could be severe, and its not worth the risk."

"Can I get out of bed?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

His eyes were serious, full of worry and caution, so she nodded her acceptance.

"Promise me you'll be careful. I can't..."

"I will. I know." She took his hand, "You've lost too many people in your life."

He looked down at their twined hands.

"You're not going to lose me."

He looked defensive at first, then in earnest. "Yes I will. One day, next week, or next year," deep breath, "or maybe in five years, but one day... you'll leave this place and you'll not come back."

She shook her head.

"Trust me. You will – and you should. You've done a lot of good here, but you deserve better than this."

"Better than a full, happy life? My work is here, my friends," she looked at him, not saying the next thing on the list.

"And?"

She looked away from him.

"It's not worth it – it's not worth the risk, Christy."

"Isn't that my decision?"

"You can't stay – you'll just come to regret it."

She watched him, understanding dawning.

"You'll regret, and then you'll resent... everything you stayed for."

"I am not her Neil," she whispered, swallowing tears, "This is my home. I choose to stay."

He looked at her, not believing.

"Am I so similar?" Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

He shook his head.

"When you look at me, who do you see?"

"I see you." His eyes bore into hers, "No one else. But I have to learn from my mistakes. I can't hurt you the way I hurt her." He stood up. "I have to do what I know is best for you."

"Sending me away hurts me more than that bullet."

He couldn't say anything to her – there was nothing to say that might help. He was upsetting her and that was the last thing she needed. Without another word he left.

"Mr Huddleston," Neil met him on the landing.

"Doctor MacNeil."

"Excuse me," the doctor brusquely descended the stairs.

The happy music floating through the open door seemed cruel.

Her father's kind face was a balm. "That man cares very deeply for you."

Christy nodded.

"You know how deeply?"

"His wife is dying, Daddy. That's where Miss Alice is. She hurt him so badly. He blames himself." She sighed, "He's afraid..."

Her father cocked his head to one side. "You care for him too."

"He is a good friend." She looked her father in the eye, "Yes."

"He wants what is best for you – and right now that means getting better." He helped her rearrange the pillows to lie down flat, "Now, you are going to sleep all night and in the morning I will bring up Doctor MacNeil's chess set. Your body needs rest but your mind is free to exercise, the doctor tells me."

She smiled, "I'd like that."

* * *

><p>She did sleep well. She was woken once in the night, the ache in her chest demanding medication. She fumbled for the bottle and woke the sleeping doctor from his uncomfortable position in the chair. He helped her to sit, to take the medicine, then lowered her back down.<p>

"I'm sorry for arguing with you," she held tight to his arms, not letting him move away.

"I'm as much at fault.

"You only want what's best for me."

"I should probably stick to your medical needs – beyond that, what do I know?"

"You know plenty – including that I might be as stubborn as you are."

"Without a doubt." he cracked a smile. "Go back to sleep."

"I will, if you will."

"You can barely keep your eyes open to argue with me."

"Please, Neil. That dose will keep me going till morning. Get some sleep."

He looked at her for a moment then sighed, nodding. "I'll be downstairs."

* * *

><p>She woke to find Neil standing at her window, looking out at the sunrise. Suddenly restless, she sat up, and gingerly put her feet to the floor.<p>

"What in God's name are you doing?"

"Come here, Neil, help me up."

"You are the most," he gave in and moved to sit beside her on the bed, an arm around her waist, "infuriating," he lifted her to stand beside him, "woman in the world."

"You flatter me, Doctor." She turned to face him. "That feels better. Did you get any sleep?" She inspected his face for signs of lethargy.

"I did. I rather like your view."

"So do I." She carefully began to walk toward the window.

Neil grabbed a shawl and put it around her shoulders, hovering beside her in case she should stumble.

She took a deep breath of morning mountain air. She closed her eyes as the wound in her chest pulled, then exhaled slowly. Lazily, indulgently, she let her gaze drift over the mountains.

"You really do love this place." He was watching her face.

She nodded then slowly turned to him. "Thank you for helping me up."

He nodded once.

"You're not furious. You said I was infuriating."

"It helps that you're also charming, and persuasive."

She smiled.

He looked at her adoringly, his hands aching to touch her.

"I did promise to be good – so," she took his arm, "Just say the word and I'll go right back to bed."

Standing there, looking at the mountains, lit so beautifully, it was hard to believe there was anything really wrong in the whole wide world.

"I'll go, back to Ashville, but I'll come back."

She felt him tense.

"I'll stay till I'm well, don't worry. But I'm coming back."

He nodded.

"I know there are risks – but life is full of risk. And if I can't take risks for those most important to me then what kind of life would I lead?"

"A safe one."

She turned to him, looked up at him, "But I would miss out on everything else." She held both his arms, steadying herself.

"Back to bed."

She nodded and let him help her.

* * *

><p>She played chess with her father between meals and sleeps, talked with her mother about her Ashville friends and caught up on all the news. Neil brought the phonograph up in the evening and her bedroom became a parlour of sorts. Ruby Mae brought up supper, with help from Cecile and Mrs Huddleston. Her room was full of laughter and conversation and music. She sat up in bed, watching and listening when she became too tired to participate.<p>

Neil kicked everyone out when he noticed how quiet she'd become.

And so they passed the week. The infection stayed away and come Wednesday she ventured downstairs, Sunday to church, and the following Tuesday, to Ashville.

**Wednesday:**

Her father on one side and Doctor MacNeil on the other, she descended the stairs. She was weak from so little movement, but it felt so good to be dressed normally, to be out of her bedroom, to have her hair done up and her blood flowing. She was puffed by the time they got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Do you want to rest?" Neil asked her quietly.

She shook her head, "Out on the porch – I can sit there."

"Alright," he conceded, "but you'll be wrapped in so many blankets that no one will be able to appreciate your carefully picked-out clothes."

"How do you know I picked them out carefully?"

"I'm trained to observe."

"We were waiting right outside." Her father explained.

She blushed.

They sat her down in a chair on the porch, as requested. She had quite the audience – many of the children 'just happened' to be around. Once again, when she tired she let the conversation go on without her. Once again, Neil noticed. He perched on the seat beside her. "How are you feeling?"

She nodded.

"Too tired to walk up the stairs?"

"Maybe."

He helped her to stand up. "Miss Huddleston needs to rest now."

Everyone said their goodbyes.

She got to the bottom of the stairs before he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way.

Her parents were standing unnoticed, at the front door, watching. The looked at oneanother, concern and a little amusement in their expressions.

**Sunday**:

Doctor MacNeil knocked and was admitted.

Christy smiled at his outfit. "Your sunday best, Doctor?"

"It's probably out of fashion, it's been so long."

"It suits you." She got up out of the chair by the window, where she'd taken to sitting, getting tired of being in bed all the time.

"Thanks. You're looking lovely yourself."

"Comparitively speaking I guess that'd take little effort – you'd have seen me at my very worst."

"You can put as much or as little effort into it as you like, Miss Huddleston."

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated, blushed, "Nevermind."

"Neil," she stepped up to face him, "that was cryptic."

"One of my charms." He held out his arm. "You're a smart girl, you'll figure it out."

She played his words over in her head as they walked down the stairs, their meaning only making sense as they reached the bottom, where they met the others. She looked at him, then looked away, embarrassed, and her parents whisked her away.

The walk to church was slow, but she enjoyed every minute. The scenery was breathtaking and absence had certainly made her fonder. Her mother held her right hand and commented on the beauty around them.

"I understand why you love it here." She said quietly. "It's up to you if you want to come back. Your father and I discussed it."

Christy looked at her mother, holding her hand tightly. "Thank you."

"You would certainly be missed. By some especially." She glanced behind them.

Doctor MacNeil was following at a distance, watching Christy like a hawk.

The service was short and Christy was thankful. She still had to walk all the way back to the mission. She felt pathetic, tired out from such a little venture. As soon as she was in her room she laid down, frustrated tears pricking at her eyelids. She was glad sleep took her soon.

**Tuesday:**

She woke early, dressed and made her way downstairs, slowly and carefully. The house was quiet so she assumed there'd be no breakfast yet, and she was too weary from her short walk to stand at a bench and prepare a meal. She would go to the parlour and sit, recover her strength.

Neil was standing in the parlour, looking out the window. He hadn't seen or heard her. She stopped, not wanting him to. Blankets and a cushion were on the floor in front of the hearth. He was still sleeping here?

She looked at him, realising anew how precious he was to her. She went up behind him and put her arms around him.

He startled, looked, smiled, and then covered her hands with his own, holding them against his chest.

She rested her head on his back and inhaled. Woodsmoke and wool, pipe tobacco and something else she couldn't put her finger on. She could feel his heart beating against her hand. She didn't want to let go. Seeing him everyday had become wonderfully ordinary, and now she was leaving, for several weeks at least. She shouldn't think about it.

He took hold of her hands and turned to face her. "Are you up to this?"

"Travelling to Ashville? Yes. Leaving here?" She looked around, then found his eyes, "You?" She bit her lip and looked down.

"I wish," he whispered, and she looked at him again, "that I could see you everyday, without your being gravely ill."

She smiled, "I was just thinking the same thing."

He put a hand to her cheek and kissed her lips.

She pressed her hands up against his neck and into his hair, reckless because of the oncoming absence, because of a frail and desperate hope that this would not be illicit, because it might be their last moment like this.

Stopping, they stared at each other.

Christy wavered, looked away.

He let his hand drop, running his fingers down her neck and pausing over the healing wound below her collar bone. "I made a deal," he confessed.

She looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I said I'd believe – if He saved you." His struggle was evident. "I want to – but it's not a matter of will."

She nodded, letting go her hold of him. "Don't give up."

"Don't give up." He smiled. "Don't stay away."

She shook her head then backed away from him, hearing footsteps on the stairs.

Goodbyes and well wishing sent her on her way. She did as she was told; rested, grew stronger. She thought about writing but while Miss Alice was away from the Mission, only Ruby Mae and Fairlight seemed appropriate recipients. Distance from Neil had cleared her head and she began to feel that she should have been more guarded in her behaviour toward him. Nothing had changed, not really, and yet they had acted like it had.

Her parents accepted her return – so long as she waited till spring. She wrote to Ruby Mae with her date of arrival in El Pano, asking if she would have someone meet her in El Pano, saying she could walk the distance to the mission if necessary, but hoping it wouldn't be.

The trip seemed long; she was so impatient! She hoped for a friend to meet her – anyone really. She had missed them all so much. She hoped for Neil, but stopped herself. He shouldn't come. She'd be doing well not to throw herself at him, so he really shouldn't come.

As the train pulled into the station at El Pano, Chrisy couldn't mistake the woman standing on the platform: Miss Alice Henderson.


	12. Ignorance is Bliss

As the train pulled into the station at El Pano, Chrisy couldn't mistake the woman standing on the platform: Miss Alice Henderson.

For a moment she was overjoyed, then concerned – what did this mean? She was back. Was she okay?

Miss Alice enveloped her in tight embrace, then loosened her grip, "Oh, I apologise, did I hurt thee?"

"No," Christy grinned, "I'm fine. How are you?"

Alice nodded, "I am well. I have the Spencer's wagon to take you back to the mission. Just think what Doctor MacNeil would think of you walking."

"I didn't write to Doctor MacNeil."

"Ah." Alice took her bag and helped her up to the seat beside her.

Most of the trip was filled with stories of the children's antics, one or two minor medical dramas and how much everyone had missed Christy. They were into very familiar territory by the time Christy found the courage to ask, "Miss Alice – tell me. How was your trip? What happened?"

The older woman sighed. "Better than expected – but unexpected..." she hesitated. "I need to tell you – Margaret is staying at the mission."

Christy didn't hide her shock very well.

"She decided she didn't want to be in hospital anymore – she didn't want to be there in the end. She decided to come here instead."

"Oh."

"We are doing better – she and I – better than we have since she was a child. I hope that before the end she is able to find..." she struggled with her emotions, "the light."

Christy nodded, put her arm around her friend.

"Doctor MacNeil has seen her – only a couple of times, as her doctor. She tries to reconcile, but underneath she is so angry, and she does not play nice for very long. I don't blame him for staying away."

The mission came into sight. Margaret was standing at the balcony.

"You will see her, but you needn't be nurse... she is fascinated by you and I fear for what she might say, to punish you."

"Punish me?"

"Thee has done nothing wrong – others are at fault. But that fact won't spare you, and I fear..."

"It's alright, Miss Alice. I'll be fine. I can help. And if she doesn't want me around, I won't be around any more."

"She keeps mostly to her room."

"And I'll be busy with the children."

"I take it you want to start school again right away?"

"I hope to." Christy smiled more certainly than she felt. A few days leisurely catching up with her friends, falling into the habits and chores of life at the mission, had lost some of its appeal.

Facing Margaret seemed like something she should do soon, getting it over with so it wouldn't grow in her mind, while she lay in bed that night.

"I'll take it." She volunteered when Margaret's tray was ready at supper time. Stoically avoiding Miss Alice's look, she took the tray, mounted the stairs.

She knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Margaret was dressed and sitting up on the bed, on top of the covers. "It's Pollyanna, back from the big city."

Christy smiled, determined not to be riled. "How are you feeling, Margaret?"

"Not dead yet."

Christy put the tray down on the bed. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"Don't run away. I've been alone all day."

Christy paused, pulled up the chair and sat down. "I have some books I can lend you."

"I have books."

"Oh."

"So, Ashville couldn't tempt you to stay?"

"My mother tried – she always tries."

"Mothers."

Christy was struck by the similarity. They both had mothers who loved them dearly and wanted them near. And yet they went away.

"What have you been doing all this time? Bashing around the big city?"

"Improving my chess game, for the most part. I did see one play. But I've been tired a lot. I read and slept."

"On Doctor's orders, no doubt. What a good girl you are?"

Christy looked at her, wondering what she was thinking.

Margaret coughed, though she tried to suppress it, but it set her off in a fit. Christy moved closer, putting a hand on her back and hovering over her in case there was any way to help.

Exhausted, Margaret lay back, brushing Christy off, shaking her head at the water she offered.

Christy sat down, waited.

"Go." Margaret said, as soon as she could speak without coughing.

Christy didn't wait to be told again. Outside, she leaned on the door. It was so horrible, now she'd seen it, now she thought about it; it was a horrible way to die. She wondered how Neil was coping, shrugging the thought off because there was nothing she could or should do. Not for Neil.

* * *

><p>Christy worked at the school all day in the following days. Fairlight visited her and they picked up where they left off – in their friendship as well as their reading lessons. The children visited in drips and droves. She promised them classes would resume the following week. Her plans were coming together and all the reading she'd done while in Ashville was coming in handy. It would take the pressure off for the rest of the school year, having already done almost all the reading she needed for the next ten weeks. And then it would be summer vacation.<p>

She looked over her plans for the first week. She'd packed too much in. The children would want to catch up and talk about her time in Ashville, all the things she'd missed in the cove, not to mention her injury and the surrounding circumstances. Bird's Eye had been seen, but not yet caught. Cecile had returned home, for the time being, to Freedom, Kentucky. Daniel was living in his cabin, finishing it off when he wasn't guarding himself or taking lessons with Doctor MacNeil.

At the sound of footsteps she looked up. She'd known he would come eventually. She'd missed his visits to the mission, timing her walks and visits carefully. She didn't feel equal to facing him yet, certainly not in front of David and Miss Alice. But here he was, standing in the door way, then walking up the aisle toward her.

She stood when he was half-way.

He stopped, "You're starting school already."

"The children have missed so much, and I'm fine. Really, I am."

"I'm glad to hear it." He stepped forward.

"How are you?"

He didn't answer, just looked at her intently.

She tried to read the look in his eyes – anger, concern, frustration, fear.

She moved around her desk, "Doctor, are you alright?"

He turned and marched toward the door.

She ran to catch him, touched his arm.

He faced her, alarmingly close, but said nothing.

"Neil?"

"How do you keep on going as if all is well?"

"I fake it."

"No you don't. You pray about it – am I right?"

"I pray – and then I fake it, I act like it's all sorted, and sometimes it works out. Sometimes it doesn't – not the way I planned, but..."

"It works out."

"There's no easy answer."

"No." That he agreed with.

"Maybe faith's more about being faithful than – how'd you put it – a matter of will?"

"Maybe." He took a slow deep breath, looking at her indulgently. "I'm glad you came back. I'm glad you were away when Margaret... but I'm glad you came back."

"This is my home."

He nodded, turned.

"Is there any hope for her?"

"Your god is supposed to work miracles – but I'm not sure I could pray for that one." He walked out. She watched him cross the field, untie Charlie, mount him and ride away. She wanted to be with him, riding away, free.

She looked over toward the mission. Margaret was standing on the balcony. She turned to face Christy, then started coughing and disappeared inside.

Christy returned to her desk. She couldn't focus and decided a walk would do her good. She could collect some flowers to press with the children, or a bunch for Margaret's room. Shawl around her shoulders, she meandered down the mountain, not returning til dusk. The mission house lights beckoned her home, promising hot food and a warm hearth.

* * *

><p>There was no one in the kitchen or parlour. She was half-way up the stairs before she saw Ruby Mae, sitting on the top step.<p>

"What's happened?"

"She took a turn for the worse." Ruby Mae summarized. "I can make you some supper, Miz Christy.

"Who's in there?"

"Preacher and Miz Alice."

"Has anyone sent for Doctor MacNeil?"

"She wouldn't let 'em. I said I'd run for 'im but they said no."

"Alright. I'll help you make supper, Ruby Mae."

They descended the stairs to the sound of coughing and could still hear it from the kitchen. Christy and Ruby Mae ate then made up a tray for Alice and David.

"I can take it."

"No," Christy picked it up, "I will. You should get some rest – school on Monday."

"That's two whole days away, teacher."

"And I want you to be at your very best. Please, Ruby Mae."

"Alright, Miz Christy."

Silence. Christy paused at the door, listened, knocked.

David opened the door, a sad smile greeting her silently. He let her in.

Alice knelt by the bed, grasping Margaret's hand. Margaret was propped up on pillows but arched back over them. She was clearly feverish, probably delirious. Her breathing rasped and then she coughed again, groaning and writhing. Alice tried to help her sit up, holding a bloodied cloth to her parched red lips.

Christy felt like she was intruding, left the tray and fled.

Ruby Mae had followed her advice – gone to bed. Christy was alone. She thought about going to bed herself, but the sound of coughing, the picture in her head, the thought of what was happening just two rooms away, would keep her awake. She thought of going back up to the school, but knew she wouldn't be able to think straight.

She should find Neil. He should know, at least. He could decide to come or not.

No, she shook herself. She couldn't go to see him.

But this might be a matter of life and death. She had to put her feelings, even his feelings, aside.

He'd tell her off for making the journey, fear for her health. She donned a thick coat, a scarf, sensible boots over two pairs of stockings, and a shawl as well, for good measure. She took Prince. It was a bright night, the moon not full, but not far off.

She had second thoughts a dozen times before she got to his cabin. Light shone from the windows, but not brightly. It was just the firelight, she figured, tying prince to a post.

Neil opened the door, to see who had come, before she got to the top of the stairs. "Christy."

"I thought you should know." She began.

"What are you doing riding around in the dark? Know what?"

"Margaret's worse."

"She's asking for me?"

"No."

"Alice is?"

"No. I just thought you should know – that you shouldn't have this decision made for you."

He slumped.

She waited, not daring to go any closer for fear that she would give in to the pull, go to him and comfort him.

"I could give her something to make it less..." He hesitated then went back inside.

Christy followed, taking her time, hovering near the door. "Can I do anything?"

He didn't answer, moving about in his laboratory. He came out, throwing a bag over his shoulder. He grabbed his jacket. "I'll ride with you."

"Is Charlie alright?"

"He's fine. This is for your benefit. And mine. You can't be traipsing around after dark." He headed outside.

"I wasn't being careless. This was important." She followed, shutting the door behind her.

"I wish you hadn't -" he stopped himself too late.

"Then don't come. No one asked you to." She pushed past him and ran to Prince, all ready to climb in the saddle.

He caught her up. "You can take this lightly. You were unconscious, blissfully unaware. I'm the one who has to cut into you, probe for bullets, sew up your organs – God, Christy. I can't sleep for the thought of it."

She turned, put her foot back on the ground. "You're not sleeping?"

He mounted Prince and helped her up behind him.

"I was careful. I've been careful. Tonight I thought... I only meant to..." She gingerly held on to him.

"I know." He covered her hand. "I only wish you hadn't."

"I'm sorry." Prince moved forward, sure-footed and quick.

"I wish I didn't know, didn't have to decide. But it is better this way, I suppose. No one should have to suffer like that."

"Like that or like this." She lifted her hand to the centre of his chest, over his heart.

They rode in silence the rest of the way. Neil let Prince take the reigns and the horse sped up, confident, heading home.

At the mission Neil slid from Prince's back and lifted Christy down. She followed him inside. He stopped at the top of the stairs, hearing Margaret's hacking cough. Turning to face Christy, he whispered "You don't need to be here."

She was relieved to be relieved. She nodded, backed away, "If you need anything."

He nodded, looking at her with thanks and tender longing.


	13. Preparation

She didn't expect to sleep, but exhaustion won out and she did just that, not waking till morning. Realising what she might have slept through, she was up in a flash, dressed and downstairs.

Neil was standing in the parlour, looking out the window. The house was silent. She couldn't go to him as she once had. But she couldn't stand there helpless either.

She went to the kitchen, mixed the makings of biscuits and made a pot of coffee.

"That smells like just what I need about now." David entered the kitchen.

She poured him a cup and handed it over.

"I feel like I've barely seen you since you've been back."

"I've been trying to get things ready for school." She looked up at him, his eyes kind, asking nothing of her. "I've been avoiding... being here."

"I understand."

"Is she...?"

"She pulled through. But it won't be long now. At least she's more comfortable."

Christy nodded, feeling better about going for Neil, though his suffering plagued her.

David put down his coffee and took her in his arms.

After a moment she relaxed, accepted the comfort he offered. "Thank you."

"No need, Christy. We're friends still – I want to look out for you. If you'll let me."

She nodded. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I'm sorry I pushed you."

She pulled away and looked up at him, took his hands. "You have been so important to me. I couldn't still be here – I'd have given up – if not for your friendship."

He smiled, the tiniest bit proud.

She shook away the unshed tears and moved to the stove, "Are you hungry?"

"Famished." He sat down.

She turned back to cooking.

"Doctor," David greeted Neil as he entered the kitchen.

Christy didn't turn, still fighting for full composure.

"Grantland, Miss Huddleston. I thought I smelled coffee."

She turned, poised perfectly. Pouring the coffee, her hand trembled ever so slightly. He spotted it but she wouldn't look him in the eye.

"Did you get any sleep?" Neil asked.

"Some," David answered, "Did you?"

Neil shrugged, still watching Christy.

She finally looked him in the eye. "I did."

"Good."

She served them fresh biscuits and put some on a plate for Alice.

Neil stood and stopped her. "Let me."

She nodded, let him take it, and sat.

"Eat, Christy." David reminded her, put a biscuit on her plate and took her hand. "There's nothing you can do for them."

Alice came down mid morning, clearly weary, though her expression was blank. Christy helped her to sit down, held her hand. Alice leaned into her but didn't cry.

Christy rubbed her back and looked to David for help. He moved closer, awkward but wanting to help.

Alice spoke but her words were muffled, spoken into Christy's shoulder. She rocked back and forth, then spoke again, "It's over."

Christy held her tighter, nodded to David, silently letting him go.

He took the stairs quickly.

Christy couldn't imagine what he would do; she half expected Neil to tell him where to go, in the sharpest of terms. But she didn't hear a thing except Alice's ragged breaths. She kept rubbing her back, rocking, praying silently for comfort, for courage.

Eventually Alice sat up, pushed her shoulders back, took shaky deep breaths and wiped her cheeks. "She is at rest. Thank God it's over."

Christy nodded, "I'm so sorry."

Alice took Christy's hand. "I know." She stood, then sat again.

"It's alright, stay right here." Christy put her hand on Alice's arm. "I'll bring you some tea."

When she returned Neil was sitting beside Alice, staring out at nothing. She tried to pull herself together, delivered Alice her tea.

"Would you like some tea?" She asked quietly, the atmosphere seeming to demand quiet.

He shook himself, "Sorry, what was that?"

"Tea?"

"Is there anything stronger?"

"Coffee?" Christy shrugged.

He actually smiled, ever so slightly, and nodded.

Christy went and made more coffee. When she returned to the lounge with Neil's cup, and one for herself, David was there too, building a fire. She offered David her cup and went back to the kitchen, glad of the escape. What could she do?

She went back, but passing the stairs thought of something. She'd prepared a body for burial once – a baby. It was a heart-wrenching, gut-wrenching task. No husband or mother should ever have to do it.

She sat, drank her coffee with them, wondering how to broach the subject.

Neil got up as soon as his cup was empty, fled. The front door banged shut.

Christy looked up, met Alice's gaze. The older woman nodded once.

Christy went after him. He was on his knees in the yard, throwing up.

She ran to him, knelt in the mud at his side, rubbed his back.

When he'd emptied his stomach, he sat back on his heels and looked up at the gray sky, sucking in fresh air like it would solve everything. When his breathing calmed he looked at the mess in front of him and apologised.

She shook her head, took his hand, helped him up.

"You're all muddy." His tired eyes went out of focus staring at her skirt.

She looked down then looked at him. "So are you."

He sighed.

"Would it help," Christy looked at him, willing him to know what she was asking without her having to say the words, "if I prepared her... for burial?"

"It's done."

"Oh." She looked back at where he'd knelt. "Do you want some water?"

He nodded, "I can't go back in there. I need air."

They walked to the well. Christy drew some water and he drank it, sitting on the ground, looking out over the mountains and the mist. "Thank you. I might stay here a while. You should go back. Alice will need you."

Christy nodded, hesitated, then went. The day passed in cups of tea and stilted conversation. Occasionally they would cheer up, forgetting for a moment that Margaret's body lay upstairs; someone would smile, or even laugh, then they'd remember.

Ruby Mae spent the day doing chores, escaping to visit a friend in the afternoon, and returned in time to help Christy make dinner. As soon as the food was in their bellies, one by one, they excused themselves, eyes heavy, bodies aching for rest.

Neil stoked the fire, stared at the flames.

Last to go, David paused on the threshold. "You'll sleep here, Neil?"

Neil nodded. "It's the last time. Don't worry."

"I wasn't. I didn't want you trying to make it home and waking up on the side of the mountain, or worse."

"No, I'll wait till morning."

David nodded and turned to go.

"Grantland," Neil called him back. "Thank you."

David nodded and left.

Neil made up his bed and lay down by the hearth. He watched the flames, let them lull him to sleep.

As soon as he'd eaten breakfast he went home. They didn't see him again till the funeral, and as soon as that was over he left again. He seemed determined to mourn alone.

Christy waited to start school again – what was one more week? It gave Miss Alice time and space, quiet around the mission, and freed Christy to help out more. Plus she'd been so tired – they all had. A couple of nights of poor sleep seemed to take a week to get back from.

When school was back it was a welcome distraction. The students were on their best behaviour, keeping off-topic questions to a minimum, for all of an hour. By lunch time Christy was flicking through Grey's Anatomy to answer questions about the human lung. She would have asked Neil to take a lesson on the respiratory system, but she didn't want to bother him. Daniel might be able to do it.

She skim read over the chapter – this hadn't been in her Father's library, nor anything like it. No, Daniel wasn't a good idea. Not yet. She'd get through the term without another boycott if she could manage it. No more lungs for the day, she'd have to be firm. They'd spend the afternoon on mathematics, just like her plan said they would.

She spent the evening studying the textbook, a dozen questions jotted down. The next day when David took the afternoon lessons she went to Daniel Scott's. She took him some baking, and in the tradition of the cove, traded for some learnin'.

She hadn't been there since the day she'd been shot. The house was so close to finished now –it only needed banisters on the porch and windows in the frames.

Daniel was clearly glad of the visit and he told her so.

"I should come down more often, I know. I don't like to leave my cabin, so close to being finished. I couldn't face starting over again."

He answered her questions as best he could, but there were some he wasn't sure about, others completely beyond him.

"The children asked these?"

"No. I was out of my depth and ended the discussion. I'm anticipating some of them. Others were just me... wanting to understand."

"Because of what happened to you?"

"And Margaret."

He nodded.

"Have you seen him? Doctor MacNeil, I mean." She asked.

"We had a lesson yesterday – the first since..."

"Is he alright?"

"He will be. Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"I don't want to intrude."

Daniel smiled. "No, you want to help. You help everyone, Miss Christy."

"You know what I'm looking forward to helping with?" She shamelessly changed the subject. "Your wedding."

"It'll be in Kentucky – in June."

"Well, that's not such an obstacle. I have summer break. Miss Alice must come too."

"I think she'd like that."

By the following week her term plan had gone out the window. Biting the bullet, she stayed late on Friday evening to rework it. She had the weekend to get any extra reading done, then on Monday they'd be back on plan. She sighed. Who was she kidding? By this time next week she'd have to rethink it all again.

She clasped her hands above her head and stretched her arms out straight, stopping when her chest pulled – the wound was completely healed now, but irritated her occasionally. She put it down to nerve damage, now that she'd read a bit more of Grey's Anatomy. She rubbed the spot, an unconscious reaction that had little effect but felt like it should.

"Is it bothering you?" Neil stepped into the school.

She smiled, "Oh, it twinges occasionally. I don't think-"

"I'll take a look if you like."

"There's nothing to see – just an ugly scar."

"It'll be nerves healing then, and muscles. I had to cut," he stopped himself, "Anyway, I heard you had some questions for me."

"Oh, yes. You didn't need to come all this way just for-"

"I needed to restock your mission with a few things."

"Oh," she didn't quite keep the disappointment from her voice – he hadn't come to see her. She knew she should neither expect or hope for it, but that knowledge made little difference to her feelings.

"So?" He asked after the questions.

She got up and found the book. Her questions were written on a piece of paper that served as a bookmark to the chapter on respiration. She opened the book and handed him the paper.

"You've been studying, Miss Huddleston."

"The children were asking questions."

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Some of them are mine – I just want to understand."

"What I had to do to save you?"

She nodded.

"I was angry and upset – that night. It wasn't your fault – it certainly isn't your fault that I can't operate on you and keep my professional distance."

She looked at the piece of paper he held, not at his face.

He took the hint, answered the questions, trying to put it into simple langugage, to explain in enough detail, but not too much.

Before long he'd drawn a diagram on the blackboard.

"Let me get this right." She stepped up and ran her finger across the picture, repeating what he'd just explained, but in her own words.

"Exactly." He commended. "Did you ever consider medicine, Miss Huddleston?"

She laughed. "You know how I feel about blood."

"I know that you can do anything you set your mind to." He looked at her seriously.

She looked away. "Thank you."

"Did you have any other questions?"

"No. Oh, I guess I was wondering if you'd like to – but you don't have to say yes or anything and there's no hurry – but if you'd like I know the children would love to have you back for a science lesson."

"Any time."

She went to her planner. "How's Wednesday?"

"Perfect. After lunch?"

She nodded.

He smiled and left her.

She sat down and wrote in her plan: _Science with Doctor MacNeil_. He had seemed happy. She sighed, longing for Wednesday.


	14. All four chambers

Christy was just finishing her lesson when he arrived. The children ran out the door, moving around him like he was a rock in the river.

"You're early, Doctor."

"I found this," he held up an old lunch pail, "thought I might put it to use. Care to join me for lunch, Miss Huddleston?"

She smiled, grabbed her own lunch from her desk, and went to him. They sat on the top step, looking out over the children's games. They'd begun to play out a funeral.

Christy shook her head and turned to Neil, to see if he'd noticed.

He chuckled. "I was always the preacher."

She laughed.

"Honey?" He put a jar on the step between them.

"Thank you." She smeared some on her bread. "So what do you have planned for us this afternoon, Doctor?"

"The human eye."

She smiled, eyes bright with anticipation.

"If I can explain to them how easily bacteria spreads then maybe I'll save myself one trachoma patient."

"How's your research going?"

"Slowly." He sighed, "I had another offer. Sometimes I wonder if staying here might mean it's never finished. Even a few months in a proper laboratory with equipment and funding would change everything."

She nodded, wary.

"Maybe one day."

"Once Daniel Scott is further along, perhaps."

He smiled, "Aye, there is that."

"What were you thinking of, that should keep you from leaving?"

"You."

His earnest expression turn to amusement at her surprise. A child ran toward them and Neil turned.

Zac Holt skidded in the mud. "What d'ya reckon, Doc? Can you skid that far?"

Christy grimaced, shaking her head slowly at Neil, "Zac..."

Neil stood up, walked down the stairs, looked at the path Zac's feet had carved in the mud. "Is that your very best?"

"I reckon I can do better."

"Let's see then."

"You'll end up covered in mud," Christy warned.

"Don't worry about me, Miss Huddleston."

"I wasn't. I try to discourage the boys from doubling their mother's laundry. So long as you do your own you may bathe in mud as far as I'm concerned."

Zac was already running.

Neil grinned at her and took off after him, catching up easily.

* * *

><p>"If I didn't have to teach your class this afternoon," Neil was saying as they returned to the school steps, "I'd have gone a lot further. Didn't want to risk it right now."<p>

"Very wise." Christy commended.

"Sure thing, Doc." Creed was clearly unconvinced.

"You could show us after school, I reckon." Sam Houston suggested. His knees and hands were muddy.

"Time to clean up boys." Christy sent them off.

Neil sat down beside her.

She laughed, reached over and flicked a spot of mud from his shirt. "You're no exception."

The afternoon's lesson was a roaring success. Not as theatrical as the history of Scotland, but the children had all seen the devastation Trachoma caused, and so they were willing students.

"Thank you Doctor." Christy walked up to the front through the waves of departing students.

"It's Neil." He said, once they'd all gone.

She hesitated, then nodded, "Neil. Thank you. That was wonderful. I'd say you've spared yourself several cases of Trachoma."

"You're very optimistic. How much do you remember from the sixth grade?" He packed up his things.

"Not much, but I didn't have such a teacher."

Zac Houston, Creed Allen, and Sam Houston waited patiently on the front steps.

"Are you ready Doc?"

He put down his packed satchel and went with the boys out into the mud. Christy picked up his satchel and followed, hanging back to keep from getting thoroughly muddy herself. All four ran – three boys and one grown man. Christy laughed. This was going to be entertaining.

They skidded, the boys throwing themselves carelessly into the mud at the end of their runs. Neil wobbled, tensed, held out till they'd all fallen, then tried to slow to a standing halt. He fell gracelessly back and lay back in the mud.

Christy ran over, failing in her feeble attempt to keep from laughing outright.

"Ya'lright Doc?" Sam Houston knelt beside him.

"Just dandy you little scamp."

"You got farther than anyone." Zac offered a hand to help him up.

Neil pulled the boy down beside him.

"Tell your mothers I had a part in this mess and you'll all be sorry."

"Neil," Christy scolded, stopping several feet away at what she hoped was a safe distance. "You boys better go home."

They did.

"I'd offer you a hand up, but I fear I'd end up in the mud, and I do my own laundry."

He got up. "I'd never do that to you."

She laughed, not believing him for a moment.

"Not without aggravation." He added.

"Am I ever safe then?"

"That's fair." He lunged at her, teasing.

She squealed, jumped away, stumbled.

He caught her before she hit the ground, but too late for her clothes. "Sorry." He said soberly.

She was still laughing, shook her head. "You are the most infuriating man in the whole wide world."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You baffle me." She started walking back toward the mission.

"The feeling's mutual."

"Come in and clean up."

"Thanks," he followed her around to where they washed.

"What on earth?" Alice stood up from the vegetable garden as they rounded the corner.

"I was provoked." Neil jumped to the defense.

"Not by me." Christy went ahead and started getting a bath ready.

"Zac Holt." Neil answered Alice's unspoken question.

"You're a grown man, Neil."

"Yes, but I won."

She laughed. "How did the science lesson go?"

* * *

><p>Neil had a change of clothes in his saddle bags in case of emergencies.<p>

"You carry around a change of clothes in case you're enticed into a mud bath?" Christy asked.

"Not exactly." He sat down at the kitchen table, clean-clothed and hair dripping.

Christy had changed her clothes and made tea. She handed him a steaming cup.

"Thank you."

She sat down and sipped her own cup. "We could make a series of this – human anatomy and health."

"You could finally get those health classes."

"Indeed."

"I'd be happy to help in any way you need."

She smiled. "Thank you Neil. Well, we should make a plan. Let me just get my..." she was gone, up to the school to get her planner. As predicted, she was changing it again.

They spent the afternoon at the kitchen table, planning out lessons and trying to fit other subjects into the same theme so that the ideas would be reinforced and even mathematics would be more interesting.

Miss Alice began to prepare the evening meal, smiling at their enthusiasm and the way they worked together. "You'll stay for supper, Neil?"

"If that's alright." He answered.

Alice nodded and Neil went right back to what he was explaining to Christy.

They cleared and set the table like children given a chore, then kept working in the parlour until they were called to dinner.

At dinner Christy excitedly told David about the plan, and kept accidentally falling back into an ideas session with Neil. As soon as their plates were empty they were back to it, pouring over books, in front of the fire, bouncing ideas back and forth. Neil wiped off a chalk board and drew a diagram. She was trying to follow, but was getting tired. The others had long since gone to bed.

She asked a silly question and he laughed. "Perhaps we should call it a night."

She looked around at the mess they'd made – books and papers, half a dozen chalk boards, chalk and pencils were scattered around them and between them. They'd moved to the floor when the coffee table had become too small.

"Alright." She talked through the rough outline once more, moving the mess into piles resembling some kind of order. Finished, she sighed, satisfied.

He watched her in the firelight, her mind clearly whirring away at something, a slight smile on her lips. "One more thing." He picked up a chalk board and scribbled something.

She turned to him, waiting.

He held onto the chalk board, uncertain.

"What is it?" She reached over.

He let her take it. In his very best doctor's scrawl, he'd written, "I adore you."

She looked from the message to his face, a smile growing on her lips. "I don't think we can include that in these lessons."

He waited for an answer, moving forward onto his knees.

"Unless it would somehow fit in," she turned back to the plan and held out the chalk board over the heart-related lessons.

"Don't do this to me," He grabbed her around the waist, pulled her across the floor till she was kneeling in front of him, giggling.

She turned serious, seeing his expression.

"Tell me if I have any hope." He pleaded

She cupped his face in her hands. Words failing her, she nodded.

He kissed her gently, once, hovering close and waiting for her answer.

She'd closed her eyes, nearly overwhelmed.

He waited and she opened her eyes again. She smiled up at him. "All four chambers of my heart are yours."

He laughed, pulled her to him and held her tight. "I kept telling myself not to hope, not to expect..." He fumbled his words.

She pulled back to see him, still looped in his arms. Stroking his beloved face, she said, "It's not a matter of will, is it?"

He shook his head and she kissed him. His response was less restrained than before and she pressed her body to his, totally absorbed, making it impossible to think of propriety. He feared he'd frighten her but she kissed him passionately, holding him close, hands exploring the contours of his back, his neck, his arms.

Minutes later, catching her breath, she stared at him, amazed and not nearly as embarrassed as she thought she should be. She smiled like a naughty child, breath slowing. Putting her palm against his chest, she looked about them. "Always in this room."

He shook his head, "Those were just dreams."

"I've almost believed that." She confessed.

"I shouldn't have," he shook his head.

"I wanted you to. If we were wrong, I was as much to blame." She kissed him again, languid and tantalizing, "But we don't have to worry about that now."

"It's only been a few weeks."

She watched him deflate, her breath catching in her throat, shocked, then embarrassed, "It's too soon." She got up and took two steps away before he caught her.

"No. Not too soon for me. But for them." He looked toward the school.

"And for Miss Alice." She added.

He nodded. "I have loved you since you brought Becky O'Teale over in that storm. I thought you were crazy – but that was hardly a deterrent."

She smiled. "I had no idea."

"I thought the pigs in the school yard knew."[1] He caressed her face. "There's no such thing as too soon for me. But I want to do the right thing."

"By who?"

"By you, Alice, your family, the people here... God."

"That's a big ask."

"I'm just trying to tell you what I want."

"Well you might have to settle for less. You can't marry me in the next six months without bothering some... I'm sorry that was stupid."

"No, it wasn't. It really wasn't."

She took a deep breath, looked into his eyes, seeking to understand him.

"You must know how I feel about you."

"How would I know that?"

"Christy, are you serious? I think about you every minute of every day. I go through the motions, I do my work, but it's you that I'm thinking of. Am I getting through to you?" His eyes sparkled, "But apart from that you mean nothing to me." He stood up as if to leave.[2]

She stood up and he turned back, faced her, not able to keep up the jest.

She looked up at him, sighed happily. "It was later for me," She reached out for his hand, dancing her fingertips around and between his. "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."[3]

"The day you came to my cabin, after Margaret left..."

"I knew then, though not the whole of it."

"The whole of it?"

"I keep thinking it cannot be possible to love you more than I do – and then I do."

He rested his forehead against hers.

She tilted her head to kiss him again. It felt so good to do so on a whim, without fear or guilt. "Seeing you suffer, seeing you with the children, working with you – every bit of it stops me in my tracks, makes me want to shout it from the hill tops. I could just run up to the top of Bear ridge and-"

"I'd rather you didn't," he laughed at her proclamations, "At least not on your own," he held her shoulder, reaching out his thumb to graze across her dress over the too-freshly healed wound on her chest. "Not yet."

She studied his face. "Are you getting any sleep?"

"Yes," he nodded as if it were a silly question. "Some. I have dreams." He stepped past her, toward the fireplace.

"Nightmares?"

He poked at the dying embers. "It's your surgery and Margaret's death – all mixed up together. It's gruesome and I am frantic, but no matter what I do I can't save you."

She stood beside him. "I had nightmares when I was a child. My mother would pray for me."

"Did it work?"

"For a while. Then I'd have the dream again, she'd pray, and it'd stop, but..." she shrugged, "It can't hurt to try."

He stood up. "A good God, most powerful being of all, needs me to humble myself and beg, in order to help me? That's what I don't get. If he's so good, why does he wait for me to ask?"

"Because it's not for him that you pray – it's for you."

"I don't get it."

"He doesn't need you to tell him what's wrong – you need it for yourself. I don't know if it was God who took the dreams away, or it was just that when my mother had prayed I wasn't worried anymore, so I didn't have the dreams."

"But you believed. It's like a placebo – it works if you believe it works?"

She nodded. "Maybe. I don't know."

"But you believe it." He sighed and sat down. "You could try."

"You want me to?"

He nodded, reached out and took her hand, pulling her closer and then closing his eyes.

She held his hand between hers, standing in front of him. "Father God, I believe you love Neil, you want to give him peace and rest. Help him to believe it. Lord, let him sleep without dreaming. Please, give him peace. Amen."

He looked up at her, "You make it seem so easy."

"You'll feel better after a good night's sleep." She pulled him up off the couch.

He put his arms around her and kissed her hair. "If the sleep won't do it, the memory of this will."

She rested her head against his chest, breathed in his scent. "I love you," she exhaled.

He squeezed her tighter then let go. "I'd better be going."

She helped him pack up his things, followed him to the door.

"Don't come any further." He put his hand to her cheek, kissed her almost chastely. "I'm not sure I'll be able to resist whisking you away."

She grinned, "Tempting. But no, very wise. I'll go no further." She put a hand over his, where it rested against her cheek. She held his hand tight. "One more."

He obliged, kissed her again, lingering a little. It was slow and savoured, like the way you might eat a gourmet chocolate, wanting it to last as long as possible, even though it's small and melts away too quick. She licked her lips after, chest full to bursting with longing, as she watched him go.

* * *

><p>[1-2] This conversation is adapted from Ballykissangel, Season 3, Episode 11:<em>The Reckoning<em>. (Peter and Assumpta)

[3] From _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen. (Darcy says this to Elizabeth)


	15. a particular topic of conversation

Christy and Miss Alice were working in the kitchen.

"You're humming, Miss Huddleston." Miss Alice turned from her task.

"Sorry."

Miss Alice was clearly amused.

"I have a song in my head."

"Which one?"

"It's a piano duet," she tried to sing it out but Alice just laughed at her. So she wiped off her hands, went to the piano and sat down. "It goes..." she played out one part, then the other, sighed and gave up. "I don't know why I thought of it."

Miss Alice sat down on the piano stool, her back to the piano, beside Christy. "Is everything alright."

"Yes." Christy replied enthusiastically.

Alice looked at her young friend, trying to figure her out. "There is something I would tell you," she began nervously, "I don't know quite how to word it, but suffice to say, thee should not fear my disapproval."

Christy turned to Alice. "Your disapproval?"

"Yes – well no. I don't disapprove, is what I'm trying to say."

"Of?"

"Am I premature?"

Christy took a breath and slowly shook her head. She couldn't keep looking at Miss Alice – was she so transparent?

"Good." Alice nodded and stood up.

Christy turned.

"Love is a gift. You've both waited long enough." With that, Alice left.

Christy turned back to the piano, closed the lid and leaned on it, thoughtful. If Alice meant it, if she really didn't mind, then maybe others would be more accepting.

Hearing a horse approaching, she though of Neil, then shook it off; a silly assumption. She went out on the porch only to be thoroughly surprised.

Her mother waved enthusiastically from the approaching wagon, her father grinning from his seat beside her.

"We've made the journey twice now – it seems such a little obstacle to keep us from visiting. We missed you, so here we are." Her mother hopped down and hugged her. "You are looking the picture of health my dear – quite the advertisement for _not_ living in the city."

Christy laughed along with her father, helping him down from the wagon. "How are you Daddy?"

"Getting there, slowly. Do you think I could convince Doctor MacNeil to take me through some physical therapy while we're here."

"Easily."

He nodded, unsurprised.

"Well come in, come in. You must be tired." Christy ushered them inside, seconded by Miss Alice.

"Your timing is perfect. Christy and I just put sweet buns in the oven."

The weekend was festive, with her parents visiting, but come Monday she was back in the classroom, trying to implement her new term plan without being constantly distracted by the memories of how she and Neil had put it together, and what had followed.

He would be visiting twice a week. On a Monday afternoon he would take the whole class, a kind of introduction to the theme, full of theatrics, and story-telling, and dramatic science experiments to inspire awe and curiosity. Later in the week, depending on his schedule, he'd work with some of the senior students, help them with the maths and sciences that Christy struggled with.

To follow up from the previous week, on the human eye, the good doctor was teaching the children about perception. They'd spent the morning mixing pigments for water colours, so when Neil reflected sunlight through red and blue glass slides, they weren't expecting yellow. He showed them several optical illusions and had them all over-excited and argumentative before sending them home to their undoubtedly-grateful parents.

When the last student had gone, Christy slowly walked up the aisle toward him. "Begin as you mean to go on?" She grinned at what had unequivocally be a raging success.

"Well, if you insist." He took her hands and tugged her to him, only letting them go in order to wrap his arms around her. He kissed her unreservedly until the sound of footsteps shocked them apart.

Christy turned to see her mother leaving.

"Sorry." Neil said.

She shook her head, "I'd better go." She ran to catch up, "Mother!"

Julia Huddleston slowed, allowing her daughter to catch up.

"I'm sorry," Christy began, "That must have been quite a shock."

"Hardly, darling." She stopped walking and turned to face her daughter.

Christy gaped at the response.

"I'd venture a guess you were one of the last to know that that man was in love with you."

"I... well..."

"It's alright, darling. You're not a child; you make your own decisions, and while the consequences will undoubtedly raise some challenges, I'd say this particular decision was easily made."

"You don't mind?"

Mrs Huddleston smiled, caught. "I did. But then he saved your life, and I saw how deeply he loved you, how he would sacrifice himself for you. No city comforts can compete with a love like that – not even those of your own family home."

Christy smiled, "I'm so glad."

"We want only the best for you – and if this is it..."

"I love him so much. I didn't know it could be like this."

Her mother's eyes sparkled with unshed tears, hidden quickly from sight when she hugged her daughter. "This is only the beginning."

"Thank you." Christy held on tight till it seemed she should really let go.

"Now, when could I come visit your school? That's what I came over to ask."

"Whenever you like – I teach every morning as well as wednesday and friday afternoons."

"Wonderful. Perhaps I can come over after breakfast tomorrow."

Christy nodded.

"Now, I imagine there are things you need to finish up." Julia Huddleston nodded toward the school and then set off back toward the mission.

Neil had packed up all the equipment and was wiping off the blackboard. He turned at the sound of her footsteps and looked worried, curious.

"It's alright. She's happy for us." Christy half-laughed at the unexpected reaction. "She wasn't even surprised really."

"That's very good news." He walked up the aisle toward her.

She nodded. "I know. I thought they'd be... I don't know."

"While they're here I thought I... I hoped I might speak to your father – that is... after I've spoken to you."

"You've already spoken to me."

"Just the once or twice in the last couple of years, Christy. It's possible I'm talking about a particular topic of conversation."

"Alright."

He sighed, exasperated. "You are baffling."

She curtsied. "Just say it Neil."

"But if you already know what I'm going to say..."

"Doesn't that make it easier? You know what I'm going to say."

"No I don't. Not for sure."

She cocked her head to one side, waited.

He exhaled, then breathed in, trying to keep his heart from leaping out of his chest. He took her hand. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes." She watched his face diffuse with joy, and she grinned, "Surprise!"

He captured her mouth with a kiss, finally successfully shocking her with the passion therein, but she recovered herself and kissed him back till she was desperate for air.

He stepped back and hit a desk, put his hands down on the edge and sat on the top. "I'm not a patient man, Christy."

"Well, we might be in some trouble because it's not one of my virtues either. But Miss Alice did say something to me and I think, maybe, she doesn't mind that we... I mean, she's suspected for a long time, longer than I did, maybe. She said – she told me she didn't disapprove. She said we'd waited long enough."

"Really?"

Christy nodded.

"How did she know?"

"I was happy – I was humming that silly duet I tried to teach you. She guessed, I suppose."

"Your eyes give you away." He stood up. "Well, I should find your father."

"I'll finish packing up in here, get things ready for tomorrow."

He nodded. "I'll find you after."

* * *

><p>"Doctor MacNeil, excellent." Mr Huddleston greeted him. "Has my daughter spoken with you?"<p>

"Ah," Neil wasn't sure about what.

"I'll take that as a no. I was hoping to take advantage of you, while I'm here."

"Are you well?"

"As well as can be expected, I'm warned. But I want rid of this ridiculous cane. Not till I'm a grand daddy, thank you very much. And so, though I'm undoubtedly going to regret it, I wanted to ask you for some physical therapy sessions."

"Of course. You've been doing the exercises I set you when I last saw you?"

"Yes – you've met my wife, am I right? Every day except easter Sunday."

Neil chuckled. "Well then, I can come by first thing tomorrow."

"Excellent. Now if that wasn't why you came to see me, then what was?"

"I suppose I also had a favour to ask."

"Ask and it shall be yours. I owe you more than I can ever repay."

"No this would be more. I'd like," he sat down beside Mr Huddleston, "I am...hoping," he exhaled, tried again. "I've asked Christy to marry me."

William looked up, surprised. "You have?"

"Yes. And she said yes."

"That doesn't surprise me." Mr Huddleston smiled, stood up. "The timing is rather, ah, quick."

Neil waited.

"But you don't wish to speak in your defense?"

"I suppose it doesn't seem quick-"

"To a man in love – no, I remember. A day was like a year, but..."

"That's not what I meant – I mean, yes, I am in love and impatient, of course, but I have loved your daughter for a long time – since before I..." he sighed, this was difficult. He wasn't sure how much of his history Christy had relayed to her parents. "I was unaware my wife was still alive. I believed I was free."

William considered the young man before him, and how much he'd been through. "And when you discovered you were not?"

"It was too late."

"But that was over a year ago. Your wife returned, lived here."

"Here, at the mission. Not with me. I had been faithful to her all those years, but... I have been faithful to Christy."

Mr Huddleston nodded once, acknowledging that Neil's straightforward answer was exactly what he needed to hear.

"Mr Huddleston, I know this is not the life you might have wished for her, but-"

"When you have a daughter you'll understand – I cannot watch at ease while she puts herself in the path of suffering and struggle. But she is no longer a child, it is her decision, and she chose the place – as did you, Doctor."

"I did – but know this: I will choose her first, always. My people are important to me but she is... she is the most important."

Mr Huddleston extended his hand, grasped the doctor's. "Doctor MacNeil, it will be an honour to call you my son."

Neil's chest swelled with pride and relief as he shook Mr Huddleston's hand.

"Now comes the frightening part." Mr Huddleston smiled. "My wife should be around here somewhere."

"Actually, I believe she is aware."

"She is?"

"I believe so."

"Huh." Mr Huddleston left the room in search of his wife.

Neil took a deep breath and savoured the feelings of relief. He realised he was standing only a few feet from the piano – right there he had first kissed her. He went to the spot, then feeling foolish, he sat down at the piano. He tried to remember the duet she'd tried to teach him.

Miss Alice came into the room when he was just starting to piece it together.

"Not you too."

He stopped playing and turned to her, waiting for an explanation.

"I've heard that song before."

"Christy taught it to me – or tried to. I make a poor student, it turns out."

"Perhaps you were distracted."

He smiled – busted.

"I want you to know – I am happy for thee."

Neil looked at her, trying to see the truth in her features. "Thank you."

Christy stepped into the room and stopped on seeing that she'd clearly interrupted their conversation. "I'm sorry, I can wait." She turned to go.

"No," Alice went after her. "I believe Neil needs your help at the piano." She left Christy, looking confused.

Christy joined him on the piano stool. "What was that all about?"

"Unbelievable." He whispered.

"Are you keeping me in suspense for the fun of it? That's just cruel. You claim to love me but I'm not sure I can-"

He stopped her mouth with a kiss. "We have her blessing – and your father's." He watched the smile form on her lips and couldn't resist kissing them again. "Thank god for our lack of patience."

She laughed.

"Now remind me how this goes." He tried, and inevitably fumbled, his part.


	16. Buttons

Cecile was an angel, Daniel glowed. Watching them, Christy's heart swelled with anticipation. In only a few short weeks that would be her.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present Mr and Mrs Scott."

Everyone stood and applauded, turning toward the centre aisle. Christy felt Neil move closer behind her. It was a hot day and it just got warmer. No one was watching them and he took advantage, running his finger down her neck to her collar.

She shivered and laughing, turned to him.

He smiled, cheeky, joyous.

The dancing went on into the evening. The crowd farewelled Dan and Cecile and kept dancing, talking, eating...

Alice was catching up with old friends, thick in conversation. Neil and Christy danced. It had cooled down since the sun had set, but not by much.

One song ended and another begun but Christy stopped, shook her head, turned toward the refreshments table. Neil nodded, followed, and eagerly poured two cups of punch.

"I don't know if I can keep dancing." Christy spoke after drinking half of her punch in one gulp.

"Let's take a walk." He refilled their cups and took her hand.

They walked away from the people and noise, away from the light. The cool, dark quiet was a relief. Christy felt warm like fresh caramel, warm and sticky, from the heat, the dancing, and then there was Neil's constant tantalizing touch. When they stopped walking he let go of her hand. She felt the loss of it and stepped closer. He put his empty cup down between two tree branches. She put hers on top of it.

"Finally I get you to myself." He kissed her temple and trailed kisses down to her jaw.

"I haven't danced with anyone else in hours."

"I know – believe me." He continued the trail of kisses down her neck.

She stretched out her neck, shutting her eyes to savour every sensation.

He gave up the quest and kissed her mouth, pulling her closer.

She wanted to just melt into him. Her body, reacting without thought, pressed to his, arms pulling closer, senses full of him.

Breaking for breath, they didn't part at all, mouths happily finding other places to kiss, before returning to one another.

"Three weeks," he pried himself away, "is a very long time."

She nodded her agreement, a nervous hand at her throat where he'd peppered a hundred kisses. Her pulse beat violently against her fingers. She thought she should be embarrassed, but she wasn't. It felt so good to lose control. She met his eyes, full of desire, and a little amusement.

It was really hot. She fanned her face with her hand, which did nothing. Undoing the top button of her blouse she took a deep breath of cool night air and laughed. This was crazy behaviour – not like her at all. But then, she'd never been in a situation quite like this before.

Neil leaned back on the tree, ran his fingers through his hair, trying to slow his racing heart with deep, deliberate breaths.

She took languid steps toward him, eyes locked to his. It felt as though he was pulling her in and warning her at the same time. She couldn't resist. She traced her fingertips down his cheek and kissed him, her hands trailing around his shoulders, relishing the solid strength beneath her fingertips.

He kissed her neck again and she arched against him. Then he stopped, didn't move. Just stopped. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He brushed his thumb against her chest, against the scar, then kissed it and rested his head against her shoulder. "I love you."

She draped her arms around his shoulders, rubbed his head, kissed his hair. "I love you."

They stood in that silent embrace till their breathing was back to normal.

"Don't expect me to say this again in the next three weeks," Christy straightened, "but you'd better button me up and take me back to the party."

He laughed and kissed her, "Will you never cease to amaze me?" He kissed her again.

"I'll try not to," she did up her top button, "not to cease to."

He smiled and turned her around, "Quick, back to the party before we don't go back to the party."

"Is that an option?" She did as she was told, walking toward the lights.

"Oh yes, but no."

She took his hand, "Three weeks."

"We could just elope."

"Only to be murdered in our bed by my mother."

"It would be a shame."

"But it can't be helped."

"Our cups-" Neil let go of hand and ran back to get them.


End file.
